Following the Lion
by AthenasHoliday
Summary: What if Lucy Pevensie chose to follow Aslan the first time she saw him  even without her siblings ? What would have happened and how would things have changed? Lucian aka Lucy/Caspian romance, plus siblingfic, book-verse: Prince Caspian
1. Chap 1 Part 1: First Sight of the Lion

Disclaimer: I kneel at the shrine of C.S. Lewis and make no move to usurp him…

Summary: What if Lucy chose to follow Aslan the first time she saw him (even without the others…)? What would have happened? Lucian eventually. (Lucy/Caspian) Bookverse: Prince Caspian.

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A/N: I've switched around a few things. For instance:

Actual Ages In Book _Prince Caspian_:

Lucy 9

Edmund 11

Peter 14

Susan 12

Caspian 13

**Note** that I am increasing those ages by **3 years**.

And, of course, I am making this a Lucy/Caspian. I realize that the two never even have a conversation in the book – but then, that didn't stop the producers/directors/script-writers from making Susan and Caspian an item in the movie (It's a conspiracy, I tell you!)… At least Lucy and Caspian have verbal exchanges and shared adventures (in _The Voyage of the Dawn Threader_)! In fact, you could say that I'm just paving the way for a more _meaningful_ and _romantic_ voyage in the next book…

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Story is based off of following conversation from the book _Prince Caspian_ chapter 10:

"_Yes, wasn't it a shame?" said Lucy. "I saw you all right. They wouldn't believe me. They're all so—"_

_From somewhere deep inside Aslan's body there came the faintest suggestion of a growl._

"_I'm sorry," said Lucy, who understood some of his moods. "I didn't mean to start slanging the others. But it wasn't my fault anyway, was it?"_

_The Lion looked straight into her eyes._

"_Oh, Aslan," said Lucy. "You don't mean it was? How could I—I couldn't have left the others and come up to you alone, how could I? Don't look at me like that… oh well, I suppose I could. Yes, and it wouldn't have been alone, I know, not if I was with you. But what would have been the good?"_

_Aslan said nothing._

"_You mean," said Lucy rather faintly, "that it would have turned out all right—somehow? But how? Please, Aslan? Am I not to know?"_

"_To know what would have happened, child?" said Aslan. "No. Nobody is ever told that."_

"_Oh dear," said Lucy._

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Chapter 1, Part 1: First Sight (of the Lion)

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"_You think we ought to go on?" said Lucy._

"_I'm not sure the High King is lost," said Trumpkin. "What's to hinder this river being the Rush?"_

Peter began to contradict the Red Dwarf, stating the reasons why it could not be so… and Lucy began to lose interest in the conversation. How could she listen to arguments when the sky was so _blue_? And the sun so pleasantly _warm_? And unlike Susan who was clearly discomfited by the denseness of the great, overgrown forest, Lucy reveled in it its presence. _Just think! If the dryads and the hamadryads and the sylvans were all awakened… Why, there would be so many more allies for Caspian and even more Narnians to meet and befriend!_

Quickly, Lucy began to lose herself in reveries of her lost years as queen when she would spend nights in the forest with the fauns and the dryads, dancing until dawn and welcoming the sun as it rose over the sea. The sun… fierce and brave but tender and kind… and as golden as Aslan's mane. _Aslan's mane…?_

The youngest Pevensie's eye had caught on something. A sight she had longed for, ever since she first breathed the name. _Aslan…_

"Look! Look! Look!" cried Lucy, pointing towards the lion.

"Where? What?" everyone else asked, puzzled by the youngest's haphazard re-entry into the conversation.

"The Lion," said Lucy, awestruck and delighted. "Aslan himself. Didn't you see?" she asked, turning to her siblings and the Dwarf with her face beaming and her eyes aglow. Her face suddenly appeared older in their eyes, an aura as of her years as queen so evident that even Trumpkin was struck dumb by the sight of the radiant and mirthful Valiant Queen.

Peter, his mouth slightly agape, asked in a voice laced with longing, "Do you really mean—?

Before Lucy could answer him, Susan spoke up. In a voice laden with the same condescension as an adult speaking to a small child, the Gentle Queen asked, "Where did you think you saw him?"

For a moment, utter disbelief at her sister's callousness raged behind Lucy's eyes before it was replaced with a flicker of fury. "Don't talk like a grown-up," she bit back with a small stamp of her foot as emphasis. "I didn't _think_ I saw him. I saw him."

Hadn't they all grown up together? Been crowned together? Reigned together? Fought battles and wars together? And now, during the course of what is sure to be one of their greatest adventures, Susan doubts her? The sting of hurt and betrayal pricked Lucy's chest and faintly (so faintly that none but herself would know), her eyes began to water.

"Where, Lu?" Peter asked, searching the scenery with his eyes as though Aslan might hop out of a bush. Lucy inwardly shook her head at his behavior. Where had Peter the High King gone? Grown-up Peter – _Narnian_ Peter – knew as well as anyone that Aslan was not a _tame_ lion… Was she the only one who truly _remembered_?

Instead, biting back her disappointment towards her favorite brother, she replied, "Right up there between those mountain ashes." A brief flicker of what the trees would look like in human form glimmered forth from her memories… And pulling herself back to the present, Lucy added, "No, this side of the gorge. And up, not down. Just the opposite of the way you want to go." She paused a moment in thought before continuing with certainty, "And he wanted us to go where he was—up there."

Lucy could tell in a moment that Edmund was going to say something; he always got this odd sort of look on his face while he was trying to work out what to say. Edmund had never had that expression before the White Witch. His betrayal had taught him caution and thoughtfulness that had served him well during his time as king. In England, he never had much need for that meditative, brow-furrowing appearance… To see it return to his face brought a sense of warm satisfaction to his younger sister.

"How do you know that was what he wanted?" Edmund asked, trying to assemble all of the facts in his mind. Lucy was neither surprised nor disappointed by his response. She knew that he did not mean it unkindly, for even as Edmund the Just, some questions needed to be asked, and Edmund was the one to do it so that he could unearth the truth and make a well-informed decision. Though one of the most skilled warriors in the realm, it was he that delved deepest into the realms of thought… His constant adages when making choices were, 'What was the root of the trouble?' and 'What would be the consequences of action?'

With a twinge of guilt, Lucy speculated that they all had been acting more like their royal persons from the Golden Age.

Peter was a man of action. He was a strong warrior, protective of his own and steady and firm in morals, opinions, and actions. Merely show him a problem, an enemy, a friend, and all could be sorted out with ease… He was the Magnificent; he could handle anything. But Peter was unused to having his difficulties evade him or his own usefulness put into question. The once-High King of Narnia doubted his current abilities… Because of his body's present age? Because he thought he had lost the way? Lucy didn't know.

Susan, on the other hand, was a maternal creature by nature. In her child's body, her words come out patronizing and were perhaps sharpened by her fear of the woods. It was startling to think that as grown-up queens, the two sisters were the best of friends. Even though their personalities differed so greatly and their time had been spent in different employment, Queen Lucy had still sought out her gentle sister to be comforted or to confide in. Susan, in comparison, came to her valiant young sister for empathy and mirth. Such was the nature of their relationship – loving and compassionate but self-sufficient of the other.

Her musings on her siblings had taken but seconds to flit through her mind, the depth of them nearly startling her (even her thoughts were more grown-up in Narnia). Floundering to answer her brother's question, Lucy said, "He—I—I just know… by his face."

The others glanced at each other with quizzical looks – especially Trumpkin who did not believe in Aslan any more than he had believed in the four Pevensies but a few days ago.

"Her Majesty may well have seen a lion," put in Trumpkin. Though he was inclined to believe that the little girl had gotten too hot from their travels and was perhaps seeing a mirage or such, the Red Dwarf was kind enough to add, "There are lions in these woods, I've been told. But it needn't have been a friendly and talking lion any more than the bear was a friendly and talking bear."

All the Pevensies were briefly reminded of the bear that had attacked them earlier – and of the squishy packets of meat that still remained in their pockets… Not such pleasant thoughts.

Lucy could see that her arguments were losing weight in the eyes of her companions. With an uncharacteristic rush of impulsive anger, Lucy said, "Oh, don't be so stupid! Do you think I don't know Aslan when I see him?"

"He'd be a pretty elderly lion by now if he's the one you knew when you were here before!" said Trumpkin, unknowingly digging the knife further. "And if it could be the same one, what's to prevent him having gone wild and witless like so many others?"

Lucy's eyes widened at the Dwarf's statements and her face turned crimson. She knew that Trumpkin knew not what he spoke, but still, Aslan be _elderly_? That in itself might have been humorous if it hadn't been followed by his final sentence. It cannot be denied that the Great Lion was wild – he is not a _tame_ lion, after all… But, Aslan _witless_? Never! Such a thing was a foreign concept to the girl – a rude, horrid, impossible thought. The notion of it was enough to make Lucy move towards Trumpkin as if to slap him…

…if Peter had not laid his hand on her arm. "The D.L.F. doesn't understand. How could he?" Then, releasing her, Peter turned to the Dwarf. "You must just take it, Trumpkin, that we really do know about Aslan; a little bit about him, I mean. And you musn't talk about him like that again. It isn't lucky for one thing: an it's all nonsense for another."

Having set that matter to rest, Peter stood up straighter and something of his appearance as King Peter returned to him now that he had managed to straighten out a tangle. He was never quite comfortable unless he was actively doing something, and even moderating arguments was a relief.

Returning to the subject they were all most curious about, Peter stated, "The only question is whether Aslan was really there."

Another shot of incredulity overwhelmed Lucy. Feeding her outrage in order to stave off her tears, Lucy declared, "But I know he was."

Peter's eyes softened with the same look that he always had (in England and Narnia, alike) for his favorite sister. He had a similar expression during Lucy's coming of age ceremony in Narnia – only tinged with pride, then. Much the same as the glance he had shared with her while talking over Susan's suitors – only mirth had characterized that look, then. His current expression conveyed sympathy, but it did little to condole the girl.

"Yes, Lu, but we don't, you see," he said, trying to break it to her as gently as possible.

Edmund watched the proceedings gravely. At last, he spoke. "There's nothing for it but a vote."

Peter nodded smartly. "All right." Nodding to Trumpkin, he addressed him, saying, "You're the eldest D.L.F. What do you vote for? Up or down?"

With barely a moments thought, the Dwarf said, "Down. I know nothing about Aslan. But I do know that if we turn left and follow the gorge up, it might lead us all day before we found a place where we could cross it. Whereas if we turn right and go down, we're bound to reach the Great River in about a couple of hours. And if there _are_ any real lions about, we want to go away from them, not towards them."

Disappointment sank in Lucy's belly like a stone. Did these Narnians have so little faith?

"What do you say, Susan?"

Susan glanced towards her sister out of guilt. "Don't be angry, Lu…" said Susan, nervously tucking her long dark hair behind her ear, "but I do think we should go down."

Though Lucy had expected that response from the Dwarf, it hurt to hear her own sister choosing the same. Never since the time she had first entered the wardrobe in the spare room had her any of her siblings doubted her so…

"I'm dead tired," the dark-haired queen continued. Sending nervous glances around her at the congested wood, she pleaded, "Do let's get out of this wretched wood into the open as quick as we can." Seeing the others' gazes scrutinizing her, she shifted to look at Lucy and sharply concluded, "And none of us except you saw _anything_."

Edmund's face grew stern and grim, his entire body tightening and tensing at Susan's words. In his expression, there could be seen one of the famous moods of King Edmund the Just – he whose true state of mind could be deciphered by few. But with barely a glimpse, Lucy could tell by the stiffness of his jaw and the downturn of his mouth that he was gloomy and dismayed…

In the Golden Age, Lucy had made an entire list of her royal brother's moods… And his current expression was just a brow furrow and nostril flare away from Edmund's 'thunderous mien:' The same look that had caused his enemies to flee and his acquaintances to shy away.

Peter, though perhaps saddened by his sister's choice, nodded and asked, "Edmund?"

"Well, there's just this," the Just King said, speaking rather quickly and turning a soft red. Scratching the back of his head, edgy, he proceeded, "When we first discovered Narnia a year ago—or a thousand years ago, whichever it is—it was Lucy who discovered it first and none of us would believe her." For a moment, his dark head hung in shame.

Raising his eyes to look at Lucy, Edmund stated, "I was the worst of the lot, I know. Yet she was right after all. Wouldn't it be fair to believe her this time? I vote for going up."

Joy rocketed through her, and for a moment, Lucy was certain that could dance to the moon with how light her feet felt then. "Oh, Ed!" Lucy cried gaily, seizing his hand in her euphoria. A shot of sunlight hit the yellow-gold of her hair, seeming to almost light it afire for all it glowed, and again, all present could see the face of Queen Lucy the Valiant in the merry girl before them.

With the branches of the tree above her casting cool shadows across her face and hair, Susan crossed her arms, saying, "And now it's your turn, Peter, and I do hope—"

"Oh, shut up, shut up and let a chap think," Peter interrupted, irritated. He knew well enough that a choice must be made, but… The boy stalled, "I'd much rather not have to vote."

"You're the High King," said Trumpkin sternly, reminding the boy of his duty.

Peter inclined his head, accepting the burden, whether he liked it or not. Inhaling deeply, he said, "Down."

Lucy's eyes widened and her disappointment mounted ever higher. Her jaw was slack, though whatever words she might have said got choked up before they could be released.

After a long pause, the High King said, "I know Lucy may be right after all, but I can't help it. We must do one or the other."

Ever aware of the conspicuous moistness of her eyes, Lucy wiped them quickly before she stepped forward to address the party at large.

"Then I must part with you here and go to him alone," she declared bravely, ceremoniously gathering up her things.

"What? Lucy! Why?" they all cried out.


	2. Chap 1 Part 2: First Past the Post

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Chapter 1, Part 2: First Past the Post

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_Ever aware of the conspicuous moistness of her eyes, Lucy wiped them quickly before she stepped forward to address the party at large. _

"_Then I must part with you here," she declared bravely, ceremoniously gathering up her things._

"_What? Lucy! No! Why?" they all cried out._

"Because I must," Queen Lucy declared simply as she stared at them all with her solemn blue eyes.

"Don't talk nonsense, Lucy," Susan stormed, on the one hand furious with her sister and on the other dismissive of Lucy's stated intentions. "Of course you can't go off on your own."

Lucy shrugged, saying, "I won't be alone – I'll be with Aslan." Giving her companions a wave goodbye, she murmured some farewells and began to walk away.

Grabbing her older brother's arm in a vice-like grip, Susan commanded, "Don't let her, Peter. She's being downright naughty."

Staring at his youngest sister as she glided through the trees, Peter made no move to speak or follow.

Edmund's gravity began to lift as he sent his brother a wry grin. "I'll go with her, if she must go," he said, picking up his own possessions. "She's been right before."

As Edmund moved past the High King, Peter caught his arm to whisper in his ear. "If she feels she must leave, then she must. We'll meet you at the Stone Table one way or another," he said. Releasing the younger king, Peter added, "And take care of Lucy, Ed."

Sending his brother another smile, Edmund called out, "In Narnia, Lucy can take care of herself, Peter – we both know that!" And with a quick wave, he jogged after his wayward little sister.

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When Edmund reached his fair-haired little sister, he greeted her, joking, "Hail, Lucy: Valiant Queen of Narnia!"

Turning to her brother with a bright smile, Lucy gave him a quick, grateful embrace. "Oh, I'm so glad you've come, Edmund! Even if the others did not."

Still sporting his grin, Edmund patted her back, saying, "Whither thou goest, so, too, go I…"

Lucy laughed at his attempt to speak like they had during the Golden Age. He had meant for it to do so and was pleased with the result. It still puzzled Edmund at times that the four siblings had so swiftly forgotten England… _and_ modern slang. Aren't speech patterns habit-forming and dependent upon conversations overheard in childhood? Edmund dismissed the thought – they _had_ been young the first time they arrived. They were _still_ young, even if they didn't feel or think like it any longer…

"So how are you following Aslan, Lu?" Edmund asked after several minutes had passed.

Lucy grinned sunnily at him. "Well, at first I went to where I first saw him – from there, I followed the occasional flash of gold. And now? Now, we get to have flashbacks to our hunting days…" As she mentioned their years as king and queen, Lucy pointed to the deep paw-prints that were impressed into the dark soil of the forest floor. Each location of the Lion's imprints was miraculously free of fallen leaves or twigs or any other natural object that might obscure his path.

"Even if we _were_ literally hunting for Aslan, it doesn't appear as if he'd be much sport," Edmund chuckled.

Lucy gave her brother a half-hearted chiding jab in the ribs even as she grinned at the joke. "No," she laughed. "Aslan _wants_ us to follow him!"

Giving his sister a mock bow, King Edmund extended his arm to arm to his sister, saying, "And so we shall, Queen Lucy!"

She countered with a sweeping curtsey reserved for greeting foreign royalty before taking his arm as they strolled off together in the wake of Aslan.

Aslan's paw-prints led them to the edge of the gorge, where they discovered a steep and narrow path going slantwise down into the gorge between the rocks. The two siblings scrambled down as well as they could, occasionally offering the other a steadying hand and sometimes they would stop to rest as they sometimes found themselves overcome with laughter. Even though they couldn't see the Great Lion, they could feel that the air around them was different – charged with courage and happiness.

When they reached the bottom of the gorge, the roar of the river sounded in their ears. They followed Aslan's trail all the way to the stream's edge where a path of stones led across the water. Edmund and Lucy skipped from stone to stone, and reaching the other side, trailed up the slope on the far side of the Rush. The paw-prints then led to their left, farther up the gorge. Then, another steep path, up the face of the farther precipices, longer and more difficult than the one before.

Huffing and puffing up the last leg of the trail, Lucy needed some of Edmund's help hiking up over the very top. Succeeding, they found themselves (shaky-legged and breathless) on a stretch of hill just half a mile away from Aslan's How.

Yes, Edmund and Lucy both well remembered the hill of the Stone Table. Many defining moments occurred there – for both of them. But before they could delve into any memories (unpleasant or otherwise), they caught sight of their guide.

Aslan stood before them, his golden mane shining in the sunlight and his eyes a welcoming amber. Lucy ran to him, burying her face in his mane until her fair hair was indistinguishable from his own in the sun's rays. Pulling away to look into his face, Lucy was greeted by something very near a purr from the Lord of the Wood.

"You are a lioness, dear one," his rich voice rumbled out tenderly, "and you have done well." Lucy nearly shook with pleasure and joy as he praised her. Then, the Lion turned to look at her brother.

"Aslan," he breathed, kneeling before the son of the Emperor across the Sea.

"Rise, King Edmund," the Great Lion commanded, breathing upon him. The breath of Aslan lingered in the air and both siblings inhaled it with expressions of serious gladness. Subtly, Aslan's exhalation seemed to work upon them, bringing back to them what the air of Narnia had already begun. While the atmosphere had brought back memories and rekindled their skills and abilities from their time there, Aslan's breath reminded them of who they really _were_. They were not children – they were royalty. They were _warriors_.

"Well done, Edmund," the Lion commended.

The two siblings smiled, then stood before him solemnly, for the air had changed and it was now time to discuss business.

Lucy made as if to speak, but halted.

Yet, as if having heard the question, Aslan replied, "Peter, Susan, and Trumpkin will join us in a day or so. And I myself will lead them here if they go astray." The Lion could see the gratefulness in their eyes but they said nothing, knowing that he had more still to communicate. "Because the two of you and not all five have arrived here, you – Lucy – and you – Edmund must be Caspian's rock. He will need you both in order to rise to his rightful place as king. Be both friend and tutor to him… but most of all you must help him set this country to rights."

They both nodded their acceptance, and once more, Lucy opened her mouth though no sound came out.

Gently but tinged with amusement, Aslan asked, "What is it, Queen Lucy?"

"Well, Aslan," she said, "you have given us responsibility for Caspian, but about Peter and Susan? What will be their roles?"

Softly chiding, the Lion shook his mane and reminded her, "No one is told any story but their own, child. But their parts will be different because of the choice they have made." Seeing Lucy's saddened face, Aslan said, "I am never harsh in my decisions, Daughter of Eve. You know this well…"

Lucy brightened immediately, and accepted her brother's proffered arm. With an almost choreographed ease, Lucy curtseyed while Edmund simultaneously bowed to the Lion. He nodded his great golden head in return, then watched them as they strolled to Caspian's base and the last stronghold of Old Narnia.


	3. Chap 1 Part 3: First Come, First Served

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Chapter 1, Part 3: First Come, First Served

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_Lucy brightened immediately, and accepted her brother's proffered arm. With an almost choreographed ease, Lucy curtseyed while Edmund simultaneously bowed to the Lion. He nodded his great golden head in return, then watched them as they strolled to Caspian's base and the last stronghold of Old Narnia…_

Still as statues, Edmund and Lucy stood twenty paces before the entry to Aslan's How. They could see the forms of the sentries at the mouth of the tunnels, and further, they could see a figure taller than the trees – a shape they recognized as that of a giant.

Memories of their former giant friends flittered through both their minds as they gazed on before they shook the recollections from their thoughts.

Edmund glanced at his sister with a cautious eye. "How shall we proceed, Lucy?"

Patting his arm with her free hand, she reasoned, "We must let them know we are friends… But how to do so?"

"Never fear, sister mine," Edmund replied, his speech slipping into the habits formed during their reign in Narnia. Cupping his free hand around his mouth, he called out to the sentries, "Hail, Narnians! Hail Caspian, King of Narnia! We have come to your aid!"

Lucy grinned at the flurry of movement that resulted from her brother's words. "Very subtle, Edmund…" she laughed, giving his arm a fond squeeze. His mouth quirked upwards in reply, though he pretended to be oblivious to her meaning.

Still, Lucy and Edmund made no motion to move further towards the Narnian war camp; they had heralded their arrival already and now waited for a response. The king and queen knew well that it would foolish to stroll into an encampment to which they were strangers – especially during war-time. Needless to say, few would be welcoming…

The minutes passed dully by, but the king and queen refused to sit. Edmund, his grown-self coming back to him in a steady stream of memories and personality quirks, felt it would make a terrible impression if he lolled, waiting on the ground of the field. Lucy, also affected by her adult persona, refused to give her shaking limbs a rest because she felt that it was a solemn occasion.

Trumpkin had said that Caspian X had blown Susan's horn in an attempt to draw the four Pevensies – and Aslan – back into Narnia. The Dwarf, though an unbeliever, had expected to find grown warriors… Would not Caspian presume the same?

A flutter of nervousness sprouted in Lucy's belly. As their arms were still locked together (as any polite, well-bred lady and gentleman would), Edmund could feel the Lucy gradually tighten her grip on his arm. He glanced at his sister with mild concern, but Queen Lucy kept her eyes trained on the figures about Aslan's How. Just then, he noticed a small group of people approaching them across the field: five by Edmund's count. Yet, as they came nearer, he was forced to reevaluate his assessment, for there was a smaller figure among the rest.

Soon, the six stood a few paces before them, just as grave and silent as the two siblings. Now that they were face to face, Lucy could see that the figure in the center was a boy, though perhaps it would be better to say 'youth' – he appeared about sixteen years old, a mere four years older than her. His expression was bewildered but hopeful, and overall, he appeared quite handsome with his tussled brown hair and dark eyes. Lucy was momentarily struck with remembrances of her days as queen…

Though Susan had suitors by the score, Lucy had her own smaller quantity of would-be lovers and husbands. Her admirers, though less in number, were more loyal and persistent in their suit. All had qualities to recommend them: some were dashing and chivalrous, others gentle and studious… Edmund once remarked that while Susan charmed all kinds of men, Lucy attracted the decent fellows.

Yet, Lucy had treated her wooers as friends. Often, the whole group of them would be seen sauntering around the grounds or halls of Cair Paravel. They would go hunting or fishing… practice sword fighting and archery… play chess and swim in the ocean and go dancing… And if she became very close with one of her friends, Lucy would sometimes invite him to one of her late-night woodland revelries. Only rarely would she let one of her beaus join her on her nights of merry-making among the fauns and dryads…

Once more, Lucy drew herself from her musings… _and _pulled her concentrated gaze away from the youth in order to peer at his companions.

On the young man's right, there was a Badger with a steady, gentle face and an old man – no, a Dwarf, a half-Dwarf, Lucy decided. To the youth's left, a wise centaur treaded and a Mouse with a rapier tucked in his belt trotted to keep up. Behind those five, a Black Dwarf trailed in their wake, clearly reluctant and out of temper.

Imperceptibly pressing Lucy's arm as a reminder for her to attend herself, Edmund straightened further as he prepared to speak. "You are Caspian?" he queried, addressing the youth.

The brown-haired young man nodded slowly. "I am," he replied. His voice had a genteel lilt that nearly drew an eyebrow-raise from Edmund (strange to think that he had talked like that when he was king…) and the rich timbre of it sent a quiver through Lucy's body. Though hardly noticeable to the others, Edmund felt the soft shiver by arm, and though mystified, he kept silent on that matter.

With both groups still sizing each other up, Caspian spoke again. "But who are _you_?" he wondered. "I have never before seen anyone so strangely garbed…"

Edmund spared a quick glance down at his and Lucy's attire. Caspian was right; they looked downright silly. They wore their British clothing… with Dwarf-made chain mail and leather-wrought armor on top. In addition to this, he bore a sword at his hip, a bow and quiver of arrows on his back, and a knife tucked into his belt. Lucy looked even odder; she had her healing cordial hanging at her side from its polished leather strap and her knife from Father Christmas hidden in the back of her belt.

"I'm afraid we are not dressed quite as ourselves…" King Edmund explained with a wry grin.

"Who cares what you're dressed like!" the Black Dwarf groused, pushing the Badger and half-Dwarf aside to stand before the siblings. "We want to know _who_ you are and _why_ you're here!"

"Nikabrik!" some of the others rebuked.

Edmund's visage hardened and straightened beneath Nikabrik's dark glare. With his mouth a grim line of sternness, the fourteen-year-old king remarked, "Easily answered, Son of Earth." Looking to Lucy for approval to reveal themselves, he was rewarded with a soft nod and a reassuring smile – an action and reaction that did not go unnoticed by Caspian.

His hard expression weakening into an air of calm dignity, he "I am King Edmund the Just, Duke of Lantern Waste and Count of the Western March, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table, and brother to the High King Peter, High King over all Kings in Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands and Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion…"

Amidst all the wide-eyed looks of awe from Edmund's audience, Nikabrik muttered, "_That's_ a mouthful..."

King Edmund then turned to his sister with a smile and a fond clasping of her hand with his own free one. "And this is Queen Lucy the Valiant, the gay and golden-haired Daughter of Eve who found the way into Narnia. The very same who met the Faun Tumnus beneath the lamp-post at Lantern Waste and who witnessed the death and resurrection of Aslan at the Stone Table." With a proud, brotherly smile to his company and an affectionate nudge to his sister, he added, "And it she who espied Aslan but a few hours previous, by which we were led here."

"_Aslan!_" Caspian breathed, awed.

Edmund glanced around the assembly, saying, "Perhaps we could continue the rest of the introductions out of the open…"

"A most excellent suggestion, your Majesties," the Mouse said with a bow to Edmund then another towards Caspian.

Lucy beamed at the Mouse, blithely saying, "If time permits, I should like to know you better, Sir Mouse." The gathering stared at her in fascination and astonishment. While they had all heard stories of the four siblings, Lucy had been little mentioned in comparison to the others – especially Susan, whose beauty and marksmanship was widely acclaimed. Thus, her voice had caught them all by surprise; with the air of Narnia working upon her, she felt like her old self again, and her voice had come out melodious and merry… Suddenly, they all could imagine what she would sound and look like all grown, and again, they were overcome with awe.

The Mouse was the first to recover, saying with a low bow, "My name is Reepicheep, your Majesty, and it would be an honor and a pleasure, Lady, to know you."

Lucy smiled at him with a satisfied nod, then turned to her brother with a question in her eyes. Edmund inclined his head in answer. Looking towards the other youth, he said, "Shall we, your Majesty?" and made a sweeping gesture for him to lead the way into the encampment.

The whole group strode steadily towards the mouth of Aslan's How, with Caspian glancing back occasionally to peer at two of his childhood heroes.


	4. Chap 2 Part 1: SecondRate Never

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Chapter 2, Part 1: Second-Rate; Never

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Caspian felt as though his nerves were lit on fire for all the excitement overwhelming his senses. Just think! Two of the monarchs of the Golden Age walking less that a meter away from him! Oh miraculous day!

Letting his advisors and soldiers enter the tunnel's mouth first, Caspian lingered behind, drawn inexplicably to the two siblings that followed behind. They gazed at Aslan's How in unrestrained wonder, puzzling the young man exceedingly.

"Are you unfamiliar with Aslan's How…?" he queried, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Edmund tore his eyes away from the intricate etchings and mosaics that blanketed the walls of the maze. "It was just the hill of the Stone Table in our day…" he replied with a hint of wistfulness in his tone. "How strange to think how ancient these images look, and yet, we are even older…!"

Caspian glanced at the younger of the two monarchs, curious at her reactions. As his gaze rested upon her, he became captivated; the queen was bending to peer closer and caress gently some of the illustrations that caught her eye, her golden curls falling over her shoulder in what appeared as a cascading river of pure sunlight.

Her finger softly grazed the illustration of a Faun near a lamppost in winter… then moved on to a boy holding a bloody sword as he stood above a Wolf's corpse… only to brush the pad of her pointer finger over a pair of beavers standing beside their dam…

Her tender strokes of the illustrations on the walls never ceased (spending an especially long time on the carvings of a lion… _the_ Lion) as he led the king and queen to his council room… But it was the reverent intake of breath from the duo that had him turning to watch them more carefully. Both of their eyes were locked upon the cracked Stone Table behind him.

Queen Lucy's features were overcome suddenly by a plunging sadness, lightened by the small affectionate smile that came into being. Stepping away from her brother's side, she reached a shaky hand out to the cold stone of the table. With a deferential sigh of contentment, she ran her hand along the stone, tracing most carefully along the jagged crack down the center. Then, as though drawn back to her brother by some unheard call, Lucy moved to him, clutched his hand, then stood silently by as she rubbed comforting circles on his hand and observed his face.

King Edmund's expression had paled upon seeing the table, his face turning white as snow – white as the Witch's skin… _No_! Edmund had long tried to forget his memory of the White Witch – to shed those painful recollections like a second skin, but his horror-filled remembrances refused to leave him. Lucy and Susan had eventually shared with him the knowledge of Aslan's sacrifice… and it had nearly torn him apart. His siblings had brought him tender solace and wise counsel and unconditional forgiveness – most of which he felt he didn't deserve. However, with time, perseverance, and a little help from Aslan, Edmund had moved past the terrifying memory of the Witch, or at least he thought he did, for the memories _would_ creep up on him at times. And now Edmund was gently shaking from his guilt and disgrace when Lucy returned to his side (had he noticed her leave?) and offered him noiseless comfort. Recovering, he squeezed his sister's hand in gratitude.

With a wan, sympathetic smile, Lucy nodded in answer, understanding (always, _always_ understanding…). Pulling her brother along, the two siblings followed Caspian where he led – namely the rough wooden table with logs for chairs and a clay lamp for light. With gracefulness that contrasted sharply with the crude furniture (yet lent it a stately glow in the lamplight), the two monarchs of old sat, joining the king's council, made up of Doctor Cornelius, Trufflehunter, Nikabrik, and Caspian… (Reepicheep and Glenstorm, after being introduced to the king and queen, had departed to see to the practical needs of the army.)

"Your Majesties—" Caspian began grandly…

"Oh _please_!" Lucy dismissed with an elegant wave of her hand. "We shall get nowhere if we constantly address each other by our titles! Caspian, we are Edmund and Lucy to our friends…"

Astounded, Caspian stammered, "But – but we met just a few minutes ago…"

Edmund smoothly cut in, "And you are the inheritor of the thrones of Narnia. _Our_ thrones. Aslan has sent us to aid you – to bring you to your rightful place as king. And you, Caspian, have embraced the true essence of Narnia… What better friend we do we have here but you?"

Smiling broadly at Caspian, Lucy shared, "It's quite a compliment, you know, to receive Edmund's friendship so quickly…" Her face sobering, she softly added, "He does not trust so easily." To soften Edmund's emotional blow at her words, the queen pressed his hand beneath the table, soundlessly communicating that she meant no harm by her words; he squeezed back his reply – understanding and acceptance. Suddenly business-like, Lucy asked, "Now what is it you were saying, Caspian?"

"Well, your Maj—_Lucy _and _Edmund_," the prince began, "I was wondering where the High King Peter and Queen Susan were…"

For a brief moment, Caspian felt sure that he had somehow misspoke. Lucy had cocked her eyebrows at him in a dry look, as though to say '_Are we not good enough for you?'_ Meanwhile, Edmund's had gained a fleeting glint of _something_ that forewarned of danger ahead. Before the prince could sputter out an explanation, an apology – _anything_, Doctor Cornelius interjected himself into the conversation.

"We are overjoyed at the presence and assistance offered to us by both your Majesties," the Doctor, ever the diplomat, explained. "However, we are curious and perplexed as to the absence of your Majesties' royal siblings."

Edmund shot Caspian a look as though to ask if that was what he had meant to say.

"Truly, your Majesties, Doctor Cornelius has described the situation far better than I could…" the prince reinforced. (Caspian was interested to note that in their slighted state, they made no move to have him call them by name.)

King Edmund took a deep breath before he said, "We have chosen different routes to reach you – all in the name of expediency. My sister, Susan, and Trumpkin the Dwarf travel with my brother Peter, who will arrive within a day or so by Aslan's will."

There were nods to be seen around the table – excluding Nikabrik who gave a light scoff.

"You will have to make do with us," Lucy remarked softly, peering into Caspian face almost as though seeking reassurances that he was not disappointed. When she saw that his face had not fallen from dismay, the queen added to the table at large, "…for Aslan has given Edmund and I the duty – and _honor_ – of aiding Caspian ourselves." Then, speaking to Caspian alone, she said, "As Narnia is your responsibility now, Caspian, you are ours…"

The intimate words of the queen seemed to echo in his ears. He could not remove the delicious whisper from his thoughts – nor did he wish to. Her utterance, though loud enough for all to hear, was spoken to him, and by Aslan's mane! he didn't feel worthy of the trust she had placed in him. Beneath his outward musings on her statement, Caspian experienced a deeper, more visceral reaction to the queen. All at once, he had felt blood rushing, adrenaline pumping, and this unnamed, unrecognized desire (no, it was a _need_) to… do _something_. Caspian was unsure whether he wanted to grasp the queen to him in a breathless embrace, pull her to her feet in a wild celebratory dance, or… or crush his lips to hers in unspoken joy.

Suddenly, Caspian was almost grateful that the other king and queen had been delayed…


	5. Chap 2 Part 2: Second to None

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Chapter 2, Part 2: Second to None

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Turning their thoughts towards sensible things, Edmund and Lucy sheepishly unloaded the bear-meat from their pockets, offering the food to their hosts with a stilted explanation. Nikabrik, looking at the child-monarchs with a more favorable eye for the edibles, moved to light a fire in a different part of the room to cook it with.

It was at this point that Trufflehunter, previously looking upon them with awe-filled adoration from afar, addressed the two. "I knew that you would come," the Badger breathed, certainty shining through the beast's eyes.

Lucy reached across the table, clasping a black paw. "You're a beast and you don't change. And you're a Badger, what's more, and you hold on…"

Trufflehunter's eyes widened at the queen's recital of his mantra.

Edmund, reading the reaction, laughed and said, "That has been a saying among the Badgers long before _our_ time, Trufflehunter." Leaning over to regally kiss the Badger's head in recognition of the woodlander's faith, he added, "In fact, Lucy and I are pleased to see that you know of it – it gives us hope that the Old Ways have not all been forgotten."

"If they had," Caspian began, "couldn't you simply revive it?"

Lucy's eyes turned downcast, as she quietly observed, "We do not know how long Aslan means for us to be here this time…"

"But your Majesties reigned for years and years in the Golden Age, correct?" Cornelius sought to confirm.

"Fifteen spectacular years, Doctor," Edmund grinned wanly. "I was twenty-eight when we returned to our world… Lucy was twenty-six. How old were Peter and Susan, Lu?" the king asked his sister. The gazes of Caspian, Trufflehunter, and Cornelius traveled to the young girl.

"Susan was twenty-nine and Peter was thirty-one," the queen recalled perfectly. Her thoughts drifted further into the past, beyond their mere ages and began describing details. "The moles, led by their chief, Lilygloves, had dug holes for the apple orchard around the palace, and Pamona herself – greatest of all the wood-people – placed good spells upon it… Lilygloves had said that one day we would be glad of the fruit."

"And so we are," Edmund chuckled thinly, "for we would not have lived to arrive here without them."

Caspian, though a youth bordering upon manhood, stared at the siblings with shining eyes. Gently, he pleaded, "Oh _please_ tell us more…"

With a soft smile, Lucy grasped the prince's hand, obliging him by saying, "Not long after that – and the repelling of Rabadash the Ridiculous's invasion of Archenland (which I promise to share another time), all four of us set out on the hunt for the White Stag. If caught, he would grant wishes to whoever it was. We were riding with the principal members of our court, our horns blowing and a pack of hounds running before our steeds. Finally, the chase had gone on so long that our courtiers' horses were exhausted, yet the four of us followed our quarry still. Soon, we were obliged to leave our horses behind to enter a thicket after the stag. There we found the lamppost."

Here the queen paused in her tale. Caspian was about to urge her to go one, for he knew that this _must_ be the story of how they left Narnia, and he was simply itching to be the first to know what happened to them. But Edmund spoke first with his eyes gentle and sympathetic, saying, "It wasn't your fault, Lu."

Her face hard and set (though her eyes revealed guilt and determination), Queen Lucy rejoined, "Yes it was Edmund." Looking back at the prince, she continued, "We were staring at the lamppost, reminded eerily of something else – as though we had seen it before. In a dream, or a dream of a dream… I was convinced that if we went further in a certain direction there, we would find either adventure or a great change in our fortunes… For me, the curiosity was too great—"

"For us all – excepting Susan," Edmund interrupted. "And in no time at all we had all _chosen_ to move into the thicket."

Lucy shook her head at her brother, determined to take the blame. Still, she spoke further. "One moment, we were brushing aside tree branches, and the next they were fur coats… and we all tumbled out of the wardrobe and into the spare room of the mansion. We had been full-grown men and women in Narnia, but upon returning to our world, we digressed back into the forms we had when we first left it. We became children again, even though we had already grown up once before…"

"And fought in tournaments, battles, and wars," Edmund added on wryly, "not to mention ruling an entire country."

"That must have been horrible!" Caspian sympathized.

Edmund chuckled harshly. "That's not even the worst part!" he said, his tone lamenting. "While in our other world, our skills that we learned here become numb there, our memories of Narnia become hazier – sometimes we even doubt that Narnia exists at all." Here, expressions of horror overcame the faces of his audience. "We probably would have shrugged off our memories of Narnia if we were all alone in this," he whispered softly. Then, King Edmund's face brightened and he reached over to squeeze Lucy's shoulder. "But we have each other – and we all remember. And besides, Lucy's faith in Aslan and Narnia has not wavered, just as our trust in her has not hesitated."

Enigmatically, Lucy whispered, "_Your_ trust in me has not declined, Brother. You cannot speak for others on this point."

Confused, Caspian observed the two as they exchanged a look. Then, the king murmured, "_He_ would've come after you if I hadn't." Lucy patted his hand where it rested on her shoulder.

Changing the topic, Cornelius gazed at Lucy, scholarly inquiring, "There is so much of your story that confuses me… Wardrobe? Spare room? Whatever do you mean by this…?"

"A doorway between two worlds, Doctor," Edmund said on his sister's behalf. "I'm sure Lucy would love to tell you the tale of our entry to Narnia – only, perhaps we could do so _after_ we've eaten."

"How's the meat coming along, Nikabrik?" Trufflehunter called out to the other end of the room. The Black Dwarf waved back dismissively, grumbling that it was almost done.

Lucy sighed audibly enough that Caspian glanced at her in concern. Her eyes were still heavy with guilt, and there was nothing the prince wanted more than to make her eyes light back up with laughter. But before he could even think of what action might be deemed appropriate, Edmund had pulled his sister into a comforting embrace. She sighed again, this time out of contentment.

Against his will, Caspian felt something creep up within him… Jealousy, perhaps? (Of a brother who comforts his sister? Ridiculous.) Maybe envy, then? Caspian couldn't tell. He had never felt like this before – nor would he ever again, if he had his way; there was too much uncertainty accompanied with these emotions… But was it so wrong to want to hold a distressed young woman? To offer her solace and good cheer?

Caspian just felt so unsure… of himself, of his feelings, of his status now that this ancient king and queen had arrived at his door. How could he ever amount to anything in comparison to them? Even without the High King present, the prince felt daunted and drained.

But all would be well soon, he knew. He could see it in the young queen's eyes and face… in every look she gave him and every word she spoke. It comforted him, even as it confused him.


	6. Chap 2 Part 3: In Two Shakes

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Chapter 2, Part 3: In Two Shakes of a Lamb's Tail

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Leaving Edmund to discuss battle strategies and methods of making the most of their position (and their enemies' weaknesses), Lucy exited the How to watch the sunset.

Sitting along the hill, the young queen faced west to observe the sun, leaking its brilliant gold illumination upon her more potently, as though to bid her farewell until the morrow. The sky was aflame with a tapestry of yellow, crimson, coral, violet, and azure until, the sun sank, kissing the emerald ocean of trees where it stood upon the horizon. Then, the sky's vibrant colors faded, subdued by the absence of its golden master.

With a sudden jolt of inspiration, Lucy understood it all. 'Logic!' the Professor had always told them; he was right. Thinking about it _logically_, Narnia's descent made perfect sense. Narnia can only thrive when Aslan is present in the land and in the hearts of the people. However, when the four siblings had left Narnia through the wardrobe, Narnia also lost its monarchs: one of the crucial connections between Aslan and Narnia. For, the Lion must bless the Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve and then crown the rightful rulers at their coronation… While there, the inhabitants of Narnia are able to see that He is real and that He loves them. Now…

Now, there was over a thousand years of doubt to push past and tear asunder – even in their own hearts, Lucy thought with a pang, thinking of her eldest siblings. But it had only been a year for them, surely – surely the monarchs of the Golden Age could get over their uncertainty? For Narnia. For Aslan. _For Caspian_…

Lucy shook her head, unsure of where that last thought had come from. Certainly, the prince would need as many allies as he could in order to defeat his treacherous uncle… and who better than those most feared by the Telmarines? …the barbarian kings and queens of Narnia long ago.

The queen smirked. It had been a long time since she had thought of _that_ particular slur. The Calormenes were always calling them the "pale barbarians of the North…" She wondered if the Telmarines felt similarly (they were rather tan, after all). Of course, it would be difficult to tell, considering that few – if any – Telmarines were told the old stories… _Perhaps Caspian could tell her._

Again. Lucy's mind had wandered off in his direction, _again_. She sighed. Back to the topic of Calormenes, she decided.

Though achingly fond of Narnia's beaches and hills and woods and far-off mountains, Queen Lucy the Valiant had still been intrigued by the neighboring nations. She had spent some of her time traveling, as had all of her siblings – including Peter, who was loath to leave his dominion. They had all made a point to travel in pairs, so that there would always be at least one person to ride off to do battle or some such in or around Narnia and one person to defend Cair Paravel while the other pair were abroad.

Their system had worked well during their reign, and the pairs always varied so that all four Narnian's received the optimal enjoyment. Lucy's travels with Susan were always different from when she went with one of her brothers, just as going abroad with Edmund or Peter varied from her experiences with the others.

Susan – no matter what the occasion – was always swamped with suitors, be they lordly Tarkaans or entitled sons of the Tisroc (May he choke on a sock), himself. During those times, Lucy would explore the city of Tashbaan or go for a ride in the countryside with one of the Narnians in their party. Or sometimes, she would just sit in the background and watch the unworthy Calormenes fawn over her beautiful sister. It was here that she was useful. Susan could hold the attention of the room… leaving her little sister to keep an ear open and an eye peeled for any untoward remarks or veiled threats or such. Narnia and Calormen were barely friends on a _good_ day; Lucy stood by to be sure that their relations had not soured.

Still, when she was not entertaining her sun-darkened swains, the Valiant Queen's radiant elder sister always found time to spend with her; they would lounge in the succulent pleasure gardens, go boating on the river outside Tashbaan, hold parties aboard the _Splendor Hyaline_ (their beautiful swan-like galleon), attend the lavish balls of the Tisroc (May he be sun-burnt and peeling), bathe in the luxurious (and famous) Calormene baths, and oh, so much more!

Lucy yearned for the closeness she and her sister had shared, then. And oh, the lovely sights! (Even if she did have gaze on that _awful_ bird-god, Tash with something resembling respect… That bloodthirsty Calormene god was _nothing_ compared to the golden strength and mercy of Aslan.) After returning through the wardrobe, Susan had seemed to drift away a little from the compact little family of four that Lucy and her siblings had been. (Sure, they had practically adopted Professor Kirke, but he wasn't a blood relation. And Mother? She seemed so far away from them now. The four of them had already grown up once; as much as they loved her, the child-monarchs didn't need any more mothering.)

Lucy shook those thoughts free. What was wrong with her today? Unwelcome (or unfamiliar, in Caspian's case) thoughts kept plaguing her mind! A diversion would be best, the young queen decided with another heavy sigh.

Traveling with Peter often took them north to receive tribute from (or give a good thrashing to) the Giants of Ettinsmoor. Other times, they would pay a friendly visit to King Lune's court in Archenland (Lucy tended to visit there once a month at least. Prince Corin, after all, was such a firm friend of hers).

When touring Calormen, the two monarchs were often _treated_ to countless formal events (as if they could be anything but a bore!). Sometimes they would be hosted by ambitious Tarkaans, perhaps wishing for a little aid from the barbarian king should they wish to de-thrown the Tisroc (May he inspire such confidence in _all_ his subjects!). But most often, they were entertained by the Calormen ruler himself.

And the one time Lucy had gone on a voyage with her eldest brother to call on the Governor of the Lone Islands, the fair-haired queen had been simultaneously pleased and disappointed. Aboard the ship, she and Peter had been closer than they had ever been; they worked with the crew, played chess, told stories and sang songs and danced across the deck. Such happy, light-hearted days!

Yet, once they landed on Galma or Terebinthia, or the Seven Isles or the Lone Islands, Lucy's brother became the High King Peter the Magnificent. It was a subtle change between the two men, but a change nonetheless. Peter was gentle and laughing and protective. The Magnificent King in foreign lands (for he never was anything but himself at home) was tall and chivalrous and inspiring – but not so often prone to laughter.

In comparison to both Peter and Susan, Edmund – though graver and quieter than he was as a boy – was Lucy's favorite companion abroad.

In Calormen, they went for long horseback rides every morning. They would attend only the most _necessary_ parties and balls. Edmund would _persuade_ some of the Calormene soldiers to let Lucy join him for some sparring in the garrisons. The two would forego the formalities of guards and shaded boats in order to go for a swim in the river with some of their friends.

Edmund would also join her nearly every month to visit Archenland. While Lucy and Corin skipped about frolicking and exploring, he would join King Lune in a glass of wine, and Edmund (ever in need of varying competition) would often challenge the king to a game of chess. Sometimes, the entire group of the royals would make up a hunting party with Lune's courtiers.

On voyages together, the king and queen of the silver crowns enjoyed themselves to the utmost. At every landing, they would tour the island and see the sights, spending only the requisite amount of time with the governmental figures. While on the ship, the two acted as members of the crew; they helped navigate, steer, work the rigging, and act as lookouts on the crow's nest. Sometimes, the monarchs would take separate duties: Edmund taking a turn at the oars and Lucy in the galley preparing meals. Though often tired-out from the hard work, they always found time to play chess or spar or lie down on the deck and talk as they stared up at the stars.

They would dream about what it would be like to sail further than the Lone Islands… just keep sailing. But it remained a dream; they couldn't abandon their duties in Narnia or worry their siblings unduly.

Lucy sighed again. At their coronation, Aslan had gifted her with the glistening Eastern Sea, just as Edmund had been given the great Western Woods, Susan the radiant southern sun, and Peter the clear northern skies. And oh, how she missed her sea! The short boat-ride on the Glasswater did little to quench her desire to ride the ocean's waves and laugh with the mermen and mermaids who sang at their coronation.

"How long have you been out here, Lu?" a voice asked, bordering on concerned. Turning her head to look behind her, she saw her brother, flanked by the prince.

"Since sunset," the young queen replied, her mind still dazed from her memories.

"_Sunset_!" Caspian exclaimed.

Prodding his sister lightly, Edmund said, "Lucy, that was hours ago." Pulling the cloak off his shoulders, the Just King set it upon his sister's shoulders, and only then did she realize that she had been lightly shivering. Edmund smiled at her before lying down beside her leisurely, motioning for Caspian to do the same with a wave of his hand.

"What were you thinking about, Lu?" her brother asked softly.

The Valiant Queen glanced at his earnest, gentle face beneath his black hair, and on her other side, she saw the taller, lankier form of Caspian who gazed at her in warm fascination. It was difficult to tell in the moonlight, but Lucy could feel the burning affect his nearness had on her.

It was odd, she decided. In Narnian time, no man had made her feel like this in over a thousand years… She never had this sensual awareness in England, yet perhaps here in Narnia, some physical aspects of her time as an adult remained after all (though hopefully her monthly bleeding would remain absent).

"Queen Lucy?" Caspian queried, puzzled and worried by her lack of reply to her brother.

Snapping her thoughts back to her brother's question, Lucy lied back against the soft turf of the hill, putting her arms behind her head as a cushion. "I was thinking about the traveling we use to do here…"

Edmund nodded slightly, waiting for her to continue speaking as Caspian, too, relaxed back against the hill.

The queen's voice was full of soft yearning as she breathed, "Our monthly trips to Archenland… our ambassadorial visits to Calormen… but most of all, our voyages on the Eastern Sea."

Edmund sighed with understanding and a shared longing. "I remember."

Caspian stared at them in shock, asking, "You _sailed_?"

Edmund chuckled, replying, "We didn't just sail, Caspian. We were the most powerful naval force in the known world – our worst ship would have made even the proudest Calormen _weep_!"

Disappointed in his lineage, the sixteen-year-old prince sighed, "After conquering Narnia, my ancestors strongly _discouraged_ visiting the ocean. Because of Aslan…"

"What a shame," the queen remarked. "My sea is one of the fairest you'll find the world over…"

Caspian glanced sharply at the blonde at his side, confused. Catching his bewilderment over his sister's head, Edmund explained, "At our coronation, Aslan gave us each a fourth of Narnia, even though Peter was High King and we all ruled Narnia as a whole. Still, he gave Lucy guardianship over the East – including the sea, just as he gave me the Western Woods."

"And the others?" the prince asked, inquisitive.

"Susan got the South and Peter the North," the Just King mentioned.

Grasping her brother's hand, Lucy said, "You miss your woods, don't you, Ed?"

"You know I do, Sister," Edmund replied, an almost pained hitch in his voice. A delicate silence crept over the three monarchs as they lied upon the hill, staring off into the West.

As Duke of Lantern Waste and Count of the Western March, King Edmund the Just had been use to riding through the Western Woods on a weekly basis. He knew every Dryad by name and every Faun, Dwarf, and woodland Beast within the wood. The king would ride west whenever he was not overcome with affairs of state or paperwork; often, his younger sister would come with him, until soon, she knew the land and the inhabitants nearly as well as he.

The residents of the Western Wood would sometimes even refer to the two as a unit when it came to specifying who would be coming to visit; they would refer to them as 'the Silver Crowns,' for the two monarchs, though not as obviously impressive as their gold-crowned siblings, shone in subtler ways. The denizens grew to favor the jovial bravery and the grave justice of the Silver Crowns over the otherworldly beauty and imposing majesty of the Gold Crowns.

The situation was similar in the other places of Narnia, Edmund mused; each monarch was most favored in the province they represented.

It was Tumnus – a resident of the Western Wood – that informed him of the appearance of the White Stag. The four monarchs had leapt at the chance to fulfill a long-held Narnian tradition… But they left during the hunt.

The young king felt his stomach turn leaden in his belly.

So much had changed in Narnia since those Golden Days… Still, Edmund longed to gallop to his wood and uproot the Talking Animals from where they hid. Shake the trees until they woke to greet their king. Pull the Fauns from their hidden homes and the Dwarfs from their underground smithies. He wanted to yell and scream and cry all at once…

All the people Edmund had known were dead and gone – except perhaps a few of the trees, but even they were fast asleep. Loneliness overwhelmed him like a crashing wave against his face… So engulfed was he in his grief, that Edmund did not notice the salt tears that streamed down his cheeks in rivulets sparkling in the moonlight. But Lucy did.

Pulling her brother into her arms, she cooed and comforted him, whispering that she "knows… I miss them all too…" Letting him sob silently into the crook of her neck, Lucy rubbed his back while Caspian, unable to observe Edmund's face through the golden curtain of his sister's hair, looked on in distress.

The prince had no notion of how to behave now that he had seen one of his heroes cry. The Telmarines had stressed that no weakness was to be shown – that if one was to be truly great, one must discard any and all weaknesses. Strength above all else was valued.

Yet, watching the siblings bond over their shared anguish shifted something within the sixteen-year-old. Edmund and Lucy did not hide their vulnerabilities near each other because they had no need to: the love they shared as siblings, the trust, the empathy… all of it gave them the pure, untainted knowledge that if one stumbled, the other would brace them before they could fall.

Caspian wished he had a relationship as genuine as the one the two monarchs shared. He was tired of his uncle's prideful looks, his aunt's disgusted glances… Was there no one who cared for him? (Discounting, of course, his beloved nurse and the ever-loyal Doctor Cornelius.)

Just as Caspian the Tenth was about to slip and drown within his own silent despair, Edmund lifted his head from his sister's shoulder, stopping to whisper in her ear for a brief moment. Lucy nodded an affirmative to his murmur. Then, her eyes still expressing her sorrow in their blue, limpid depths, Lucy reached for his hand, hers cool and white on her his warmer, tan one. With a sudden lurch, Caspian was shocked to discover himself with his arms wrapped around the queen's – even more astonished so because she had been the one to pull him there.

"You looked like you needed a hug, too," Lucy murmured, her eyes dulcet and understanding as they gazed into Caspian's. He nodded, still dazed, then secured his arms more firmly around her small, soft body.

All at once, both prince and queen were abnormally aware of their bodies. Their warmth seeped into each other where they touched and they could hear the other's breath in their ear. Finally, the two separated, their eyes not quite meeting as they averted their flushed faces and uttered small words of gratitude for the comfort provided.

Meanwhile, Edmund looked on with undisguised attentiveness. Pretending he hadn't seen their awkward embrace or reluctant separation, King Edmund mildly suggested, "Why don't we sleep out here tonight? We could lay our cloaks over us for blankets and the grass is a soft enough mattress…"

With a quirk of her brow, Lucy pointed out the limited number of cloaks as opposed to the quantity of individuals. To which her brother replied, "We three can sleep near each other and share the two cloaks. How would that be?"

"What if Uncle Miraz attacks in the night?" Caspian queried.

Edmund smiled, "I trust that the sentries will be alert." Thus, the other two were forced to concede.

Laying his arm beneath his sister's head, Edmund drew closer to Lucy, then pulled Caspian so that his arm encased the waist of the queen. Despite the evident blushes on both the prince's and his sister's faces, Edmund ignored their awkwardness. He then pulled the cloaks so that they overlapped on Lucy and closed his eyes to sleep.

Surprisingly, slumber came easily to Edmund, yet it remained elusive for the other two.

Unwilling to let the silence grow, Lucy looked skyward and murmured, "Whenever Edmund and I went on a sea voyage, we would always sprawl out on the deck at night to watch the stars…"

Caspian's reply was warm and velvety as he breathed, "And what was that like…?"

Another blush bloomed in Lucy's cheeks. "It was lovely," she yawned lightly, leaning toward Caspian slightly. "The sky was vibrant with the gleaming white stars nestled in the velvet, midnight-blue heavens. The moon would be full and swollen off to the side, pouring her liquid silver light out upon the deck of the ship. Meanwhile, you could faintly see the light from the moon and the stars reflecting off the ocean's water so that there was a sort of white-silver ambiance as far as the eye could see…"

Caspian was going to reply or ask another question, but with an inward start of surprise, he noticed Lucy's breath even out where her head rested upon his shoulder. The Valiant Queen had fallen asleep on him… Caspian could find no words to describe the giddiness he felt at that realization, nor the sudden swell of tenderness and protectiveness he experienced as he gazed upon her sleeping face.

"I shall go on a sea voyage one day," Caspian murmured softly, sending his determination out into the vast reaches of the heavens. Laying his head down to face the girl, the prince shut his eyes and descended into slumber with a yearning sigh.

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A/N:

Is this a better length? I tried to make it longer so I wouldn't be teasing you all with little snippets of the story…

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	7. Chap 2 Part 4: Two by Two

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Chapter 2, Part 4: Two by Two

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Languidly, Lucy woke from the deepest sleep she had ever experienced, certain that someone – the person she liked best in the world – had been calling her name… Her eyelids still heavy from slumber, the young queen blinked up owlishly at the blanket of stars high above her. Smiling leisurely, Lucy mouthed the names of a few of the summer constellations she could see: the Hammer, the Ship, the Leopard…

"Dear old Leopard," she murmured happily to herself.

The girl was extremely comfortable; she was burrowed between two young men larger than herself: her brother Edmund, in all his soothing familiarity, and the warm, tan body of the prince they had come to put on the throne. Gazing fondly at the two in turns, Lucy observed the soft intake of breath and heard the warm release of air from the youths. With a small shiver of affection, she snuggled deeper beneath the cloaks, lightly drawing her companions nearer before laying her head down to return to sleep.

Again, the voice called her name.

Lucy furrowed her brows in bemusement. The Valiant Queen was unsure of whom the voice belonged to: her father was in England, it didn't quite sound like Peter, and both Edmund and Caspian were asleep at her side. Whose voice could it be?

_Only one way to find out…_ her mind supplied. Unwillingly or not, Lucy was going to follow the voice.

Disentangling herself from her sleeping companions, she rose, halting momentarily to tuck the cloaks more securely around the two sleeping figures. The youths slumbered on as Lucy walked down the hill into the woods…

Entering the shelter of the trees, Lucy whispered to herself, "This is lovely…" For it was cool and fresh, and delicious smells were floating everywhere.

Ahead, it was a little lighter. Strolling along at her ease, the queen came to a place where there were fewer trees, allowing pools of moonlight to drip down onto the forest floor. Yet, the shade of the trees and the patches of moonlight seemed to mix and merge together at the borderline between them until Lucy was unsure of her path.

A breeze sifted through the mesh of trees, the barest breath of it surviving the trip to run its intangible fingers of air through the girl's soft hair. Deeply inhaling the gentle puff of air, Lucy's mind seemed to slip sideways… until the woods around her were over a thousand years younger – the land of her memories.

The trees were spaced further apart, allowing moonlight to gently bathe portions of the forest-floor. Dryads in spirit-form slid out of their trunks like a second-skin, stopping to chat with one another before the song and dance began.

The silver birch would be a slender girl, her hair blowsy in her fair, marble-white face. She would clasp Lucy in excitement, grasping the queen's hands lightly in her own as she laughed in her soft, showery voice. Lucy would reply in kind, her voice more raucous than the dulcet tones of the tree spirit, but the birch's silvery sounds and the queen's lively, golden tone complemented each other. The gilded notes twined and curled about each other as the waves of sound reverberated through the cool night air.

Both girls were early, impatient for the midnight dance to begin. In the meanwhile, the two chattered softly, allowing their eagerness to spill out through their conversation lest it boil-over within them. When a few more Dryads appear to join them, the birch girl pulled her fair-haired friend into an impromptu romping dance – more a swift combination of twirls and skips than anything else. Lucy eagerly conceded to the birch's caper, laughing brightly all the while. Only then, did the two stop to meet their friends.

The oak was a hearty old man, undeniably wrinkled and speckled with warts across his face and hands. Taking a moment to scratch at his frizzled beard, the sage smiled at her – a fond, heart-warming beam that warmed Lucy down to her toes. He was such a kind, grandfatherly old man! Giving one of her hands a tender pat, the gnarled and knotted oak rumbled out his greetings. He, too, was here for the dance. Despite the creakiness of his aged limbs, the oak spirit was looking forward to the exercise, knowing as he did that while he could not bend and twirl as the nimble birch could, he was a master of the more measured dances. Bend he could not, but neither would he break. That being the case, he secured Lucy's promise for the first country-dance.

Lucy's attention was then turned to the beech Dryad; the smooth and stately lady of the wood made to curtsy but the golden-haired queen halted the motion. Instead, she pulled the Dryad into an embrace. The beech smiled slightly, both amused by and endeared to the young queen by her un-officious behavior. As the hug ended, the Dryad nodded to the girl, letting her know that the dance would begin soon. Lucy's answer was an immediate, blinding grin. Nary a second later, the birch girl snatched the queen's hand, giving her a slight tug. The queen turned to the girl, the birch's mischievous and eager expression reflected upon Lucy's face. To the accompaniment of the oak's booming chortle and the beech's bell-like chuckle, the two girls raced toward the clearing a little ways away.

The dance was about to begin.

Prancing around the clearing, Lucy and the birch peripherally noticed the Dryads and Satyrs and Fauns approach the grassy location of the pair's gambol. The fauns' cloven hooves frolicked across the lawn, itching for the dance to truly begin. Their hair ranged in color from a rich, glossy black to a soft, white luster – with all shades of brown, ginger, and flaxen hair between. Some of the Fauns carried instruments: lyres cradled in arms, pipes loosely clutched in hands, and the occasional drum borrowed from a Dwarf. The musicians set themselves off to the side, on the fringe of the surrounding trees and dancing lawn.

The beech Dryad from earlier stood with the musicians, preparing to add the luxuriance of her voice to the music. While the musicians tuned up – several separate strains of music mixing and crossing, the dancers indulged in a frolicking warm-up dance. All of them skipped and twirled and jumped around the lawn separately, getting their blood pumping faster and stretching and loosening their chilled muscles. Only when the musicians played as one did the dancers join hands in a large circle to skip, kick, twirl, and reverse according to the tune.

The melodies and dances came and went. The Faun's circular frolic was followed by a lively country-dance. Then came a waltzing dance for partners. Later, a stately quadrille flew past. Then, a sprightly jig. A gavotte. A tarantella… And then even more circlular Faun dances.

These were not the formal minuets or cotillions that would be held for ambassadors at Cair Paravel. This was _dancing_ in every sense of the word. Lucy abandoned her senses of everything except the feel of her moving body, the night air upon her skin, the streaming moonlight-illumed cascade of her hair, the trickle of perspiration on her back, the heat and enjoyment of the dance evidenced by the glowing flush of her cheeks.

And later, when the grays and purples of twilight crept over the sky, Lucy's dance partners and full-moon friends would depart – back to their trees, back to their caves, back to their homes. The queen would then race to the beach. With the waves lapping at her bare feet (she never wore shoes during the forest dances – except in the snowy winter), Lucy was able to see the first tendrils of sunlight as it reached out over the ocean. The blazing sun reminded her of Aslan, stretching forth his love each and every day. Thus, eyes shining from adoration and lack of sleep, Lucy would alternately glide or stumble to her bedroom, her mind in a buzzing haze signifying her need for slumber.

At long last, she would sleep until noon – and sometimes beyond. Peter would fluctuate between sending her indulgent smiles and disapproving looks over luncheon. Susan would nag (It simply was not good for her health to go out at all hours of the night to dance! …Lucy chose not to mention her bare feet, lest Susan chide her then check to see if she had caught pneumonia.). Edmund understood, though. He knew what it meant to need a release – to be independent and untamed. He knew. Just like Aslan.

…Aslan?

Lucy blinked, forcibly removing herself from the enraptured hold of her memories.

Could the voice calling her to the woods be Aslan?

_Lucy,_ the Voice called again. This time, she was sure; it must be Aslan. It is.

At this realization, her feet moved more swiftly across the forest floor. The moon was so bright now that the landscape was nearly as clear as day – even with the closeness of the trees. Everything around Lucy appeared wilder and a strange sense of excitement permeated the air.

Ahead, she could see a glade of trees about a bow-shot away. Staring at the trees there, Lucy exclaimed, "Why, I do believe they're moving." A wide, tremulous smile grew across her face. "They're walking about," she repeated to herself, torn between a shout of joy and a sob of relief.

Her heart beating wildly, Lucy moved her suddenly unsteady limbs in that direction. Approaching, she heard the familiar noise of the shaking of trees in a high wind, though the air was now stagnant and still. The queen shook her head; these were not ordinary tree noises either. There seemed to be a tune in it.

Though Lucy could not seem to catch the tune, she was still pulled in by the lilt of it, and her feet began to step and skip in time to the whispered beat of the trees. Now, there could be no doubt; the trees really _were_ moving. They glided in and out through one another as if in a complicated country-dance.

With a startled chortle of laughter, Lucy recalled a joke Tumnus had once told her – something to do with it being a very, very country-dance when it involved trees…

She was almost among them now.

The first tree Lucy glanced at appeared in its human form – a huge man with a shaggy beard and great bushes of hair. In the next moment, he was a tree, though still moving through the steps of the dance. Curious, she examined whether she could espy any roots, only to discover that rather than crawling upon the surface of the earth, they waded through it as a human would in water. For all the other trees, circumstances were the same: friendly, lovely giant and giantess forms one moment (which the tree-people put on when some good magic has called them into full life) and ordinary trees the next (…though it could easily be argued that none/few ordinary trees could move on their own).

Yet, gazing at their tree-forms, Lucy noticed that even as trees, they seemed strangely human, and in human-form, they, too, appeared branchy-er and leafier than a fully awakened Dryad.

"They are almost awake, not quite," she murmured over the queer lilting, rustling, cool, merry noise.

Stretching her limbs slightly, Lucy marveled at how remarkably _awake_ she felt – as though she was more wide awake than any person usually was or had ever been. Feeling this with a keen sense of excitement rushing through her veins, Lucy moved fearlessly among them.

Recalling the moonlit dances of long ago, she danced her way through their ranks, leaping this way and that to avoid being run into by her huge partners. She had to move past them, for the Aslan was beyond – Lucy could feel it in her bones. Finally, half-wondering whether she had been using her arms to push branches aside or to take hands in a Great Chain with big dancers who stooped to reach her, the girl found herself in an open place within a ring of trees.

Away from the shifting confusion of the lovely lights and shadows amidst the dancing trees, Lucy stood in a circle of grass, smooth as a lawn. Ignoring the motion of the dark trees around the clearing, the young queen's eyes focused solely on the huge Lion. His fur shone white in the moonlight, contrasting strikingly with his huge black shadow beneath him. Though He stood still as stone, Lucy rushed to his side.

Kissing and putting her arms as far around him as she could, the girl buried her face in the rich silkiness of his mane – much as she had earlier in the day. Their meeting hours before felt like a grave matter of business, but this – this moment in the woods was all joy and laughter. The great Beast even rolled over onto his side so that Lucy fell – half sitting and half-lying between his front paws. Bending forwards, Aslan affectionately touched her nose with his tongue and his breath floated about her in a cloud of love and warmth.

"Thank you for coming, child," the Lion rumbled as the girl gazed up at his large, wise face.

Lucy smiled in reply. How could she _not_ come when he called, her face seemed to say. A playful note in her voice, she instead remarked, "I didn't mention it before, Aslan, but you're bigger."

With a short, deep chuckle of amusement, Aslan replied, "That is because you are older, little one."

"Not because you are?" she teased, idly stroking his golden mane.

"I am not," the Lion said. "But every year you grow, you will find me bigger."

For a time, Lucy was so content and happy that she did not wish to speak. However, Aslan's resonant voice broke through the silence. "Lucy," he said, "we must not lie here for long. You have work in hand, and Peter, Susan, and Trumpkin have lost much time today."

"Mm-hm," the girl agreed mildly, still saddened by her two siblings' lack of faith in her… lack of faith in _Aslan_.

Sensing the change in the girl's mood, the Lion rumbled, "Do not despair, dear one. You have done well, though I _do_ ask for assistance this night."

"You have only to ask and it is done, Aslan," the Valiant Queen stated, moving to stand before him.

"Good," the Lion purred. With his stately noise-less paces, Aslan led the way through the belt of dancing trees with Lucy at his side. The trees parted to make way for them, assuming their human shapes entirely for a full second (in which Lucy was able to glimpse the wood-gods and wood-goddesses all bowing to the Lion), before they were trees once again, still bowing.

Reaching the edge of the woods at the bottom of the hill, Aslan turned to Lucy, saying, "You walked with me in the same direction once before – at that time it was I who had to come to the top of the hill."

Lucy shivered slightly at the memory of that night. She had no desire to recall the horrid images of Aslan's sacrifice… and thankfully, the Lion spoke again before she could delve much further into unpleasant thoughts.

"This night, I ask this of you: ascend and wake Caspian and your brother. Tell Edmund that he will be needed within the How before the night ends. Tell Caspian to follow you."

"Where shall we be going, Aslan?" the girl wondered, curious.

"Peter, Susan, and the Son of Earth must arrive here _tonight_," he said. "And you, Lucy, are the one who must lead them."

She glanced at the Lion with a query in her eyes. The Lion understood, saying, "It is you who leads the way, dear one. Into Narnia. Out of Narnia. To Caspian. It is always you, and it is always according to my will, dear heart."

The guilt she bore for leading the way out of Narnia seemed to recede like the tides, replaced with tranquility. So, too, was there a satisfied pleasure in being given the honor of following Him: of doing His will. Nodding her head, Lucy made her way up the hill, reaching the two youths whom she had left behind not long ago.

Kneeling between them in the spot she had formerly vacated, Lucy turned first to her brother. Shaking him softly by his shoulders, Lucy pulled him from his dreams…

Edmund's eyes were dark and bleary in the moonlight. Rubbing them with the palms of his hands, he was greeted with the sight of his little sister. "You need to get up," she said softly. "I've spoken with Aslan; he says that you will be needed in the How tonight."

Fully awake now, Edmund wondered, "What about you?"

Standing and pulling her brother to his feet, she said, "Caspian and I will be bringing Peter and Susan here with Aslan…"

With a nod and a trace of a smile, Edmund took his cloak and placed it upon her, remarking, "You'll need this, then." Then, turning to walk to the entrance to the caves, Edmund halted a moment, laying a hand on his sister's shoulder for a brief second. "Stay safe," he murmured. Glancing an instant over to Caspian's sleeping form, Edmund added wryly, "_Both_ of you."

Lucy nodded to him, and he walked away.

Now, it was time for her to waken Caspian. The girl sighed; she would have preferred to know him better before given the task of waking him. Here in Narnia, one could never be sure how people would react to being woken up – learning to fight, experiencing battles, witnessing horrific things… those sorts of things had a way of changing people. It made one more alert, more easily startled. And as a rule, awakening people had its dangers. Sometimes even ghosting a finger over a stranger's skin could cause the sleeper to startle awake, knife in hand and instantly alert.

Usually, after knowing someone for a little while (even as little as a few days) Lucy had measured their personality and character enough to know _just_ how to wake them. Some needed shaking. Others whispers. Still others required a banging of pots and pans, or hand rubbing, or hair tousling, or any of a thousand different methods…

How should she wake Caspian?

Deciding to trust her instincts, Lucy knelt down again by the prince's side. Taking his left hand in her own, she raised her right hand (the one still warm from its contact with the Lion's mane) to his cheek. Gently, the young queen moved her hand along his jaw line, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone. "Caspian," she murmured, never stopping the soothing motion of her fingers. "Caspian, wake up; I need you."

At last, the prince stirred. Softly mumbling, his eyes fluttered open only to grow wide within a moment.

The vision Caspian met with upon waking was that of a goddess. Light eyes soft and vibrant met his own, surrounded by the figure's smooth, glowing, white skin. Framing the young face was a curtain of waves – hair gleaming silver beneath the moon. A moon deity, the prince initially thought. Yet, barely a moment later, he realized that the girl was Lucy.

Lucy, however, no longer appeared so outlandish as she did when they first met. Upon arriving inside the How, both she and her brother had been given more suitable clothing – namely the russet-colored hunting dress she currently wore. No… the young queen now did not look unusual. However, washed as she was in moonlight, Lucy did appear otherworldly.

And why shouldn't she? he thought. She _does_ come from another world. She _is_ a figure of legend here in Narnia…

"Caspian?" Lucy asked softly. "Are you awake?"

Still speechless from the vision of Queen Lucy in the moonlight, the young man nodded, easing himself up with his right hand – having only now realized that the girl held his left. …Not to mention the fact that her fingers were still ghosting across his cheek. Never was the prince so grateful for the masking power of the night to conceal a blush.

Squeezing the boy's hand, Lucy asked, "Are you ready to meet Aslan?"

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	8. Chap 2 Part 5: Put Two and Two

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Chapter 2, Part 5: Put Two and Two Together

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"What?" the startled young man croaked. "Meet _Aslan_? Now?" Caspian was awash with apprehension. What if He didn't like him? What if he didn't make a good impression? What if… What if…

Lucy could feel the cogs turning dizzily in Caspian's head. Softly, she used both hands to stroke his left, attempting to calm him down. Still, the youth nervously ran his fingers (from the other hand) through his hair, tousling the brown locks further.

Lucy couldn't keep from smiling at that action… it was at once both sweet and adorable to her, so she naturally couldn't prevent herself from raising his hand to her lips.

The soft kiss upon his hand shocked the youth into stillness, allowing Lucy to speak. "Caspian," she murmured, "Aslan will approve of you – I am certain of it. But we _do_ need to go; we cannot keep the Lion waiting, after all."

Still dumb from amazement, the prince nodded his head, allowing the girl to pull him to his feet. Then, he watched silently as she placed his cloak over his shoulders and did the clasp. Taking his hand once again, the young queen said, "Come." Thus, the two began to descend the slope of the hill, making their way towards Aslan.

The Lord of the Wood stood at the edge of the forest, waiting for them to approach.

Caspian paused several paces before the Great Lion; he sank to his knees and bowed his head to the golden creature. Lucy had already released his hand, moving forward with gleeful ease to stand at Aslan's right hand. And when the youth finally got courage enough to lift his eyes, he was dazzled by the vision before his eyes.

The moonlight shone at such an angle that the two figures were illuminated to his eyes. The light played across the girl's hair and the Lion's fur, creating identical aureoles of glowing silver around their forms. Lucy's skin was snow-white and her face was elated and serene all at once. Aslan's face, in comparison, was both fierce and kind – loving and commanding and expectant.

"My Lord," Caspian began, perturbed by the Lion's silence thus far, "though uncertain as to whether I would be sufficient as King of Narnia, readily I will do your bidding in whatever matter you ask."

"Well spoken, Prince," the son of the Emperor-over-the-sea rumbled gently, touching his nose to the youth's forehead. The Lion's warm, golden breath poured over him as Aslan commanded, "Rise, then, Caspian the Tenth and follow my instructions." Humbled by the Lion's presence, the young man rose slowly, his eyes never leaving the intense amber of Aslan's.

At last, the great cat turned to speak to the girl at his side. With a trace of a purr, he informed, "Dear one, I will escort you and the prince to your eldest siblings; introduce them to Caspian, then follow me back here." Aslan paused a moment before adding, "They might not be able to see me at first, so you must be firm that they follow you both. Do you understand, Lucy my child?"

"Yes, Aslan," the little queen meekly replied, her eyes still brimming with overflowing joy.

The corners of the Lion's maw lifted, at once releasing a throaty chuckle and revealing his sharp, lengthy teeth. "Then climb aboard, my little queen," he laugh-rumbled, "and help the future-king upon my back as well!"

Lucy clapped her hands in delight, leaning in to press kisses to his cheek and mane before she complied. Stretching out a hand to the prince, where she rested just behind the Lion's tawny shoulders, she smiled. "Come, Caspian," she entreated merrily. "Be the second in over a thousand years to ride upon the highest of all Narnia's kings."

Timidly and full of awe, the boy's hand met hers halfway, allowing her to reel him towards her. Then, after he had settled in behind her, Lucy wrapped his long arms around her waist, softly explaining, "You will need to hold on…"

"Why?" he whispered in her ear, his chin resting upon her shoulder.

However much Lucy tried to avoid being affected by his nearness and his soft, suggestive tone, she failed: his warm, breathy question set her nerves on fire. Heat shot through her, sparked at each point of contact with his body, and settling in the pit of her belly. With an equally soft voice, she replied, "…Because he tends to make haste on matters of business."

Lucy – no stranger to flirting back in the Golden Age – could have groaned at the strangeness of her words. Though impersonal and non-suggestive in nature, the soft huskiness of her voice spoke of invitation and desire. If it would not have made her feel even more foolish, Lucy would have cursed or lightly knocked her forehead or made a face… anything to distract her from the awkward situation she now found herself in.

Luckily, Caspian chose to overlook or ignore the hint of _something_ in the young queen's voice, instead holding her tighter in his arms as she clasped the Lion's mane in her small, dove-white fingers. At long last, Aslan began to move.

He began at a gentle, noiseless stroll, picking up his pace without a hitch in the motion until they were trotting, then loping through the forest in a silver-gold blur. To Caspian, it appeared that the Lion moved in a straight line, yet how could that be? Surely trees would lie in their path? Lucy, however, enlightened the youth, sharing in a hushed tone that the trees were making way for Aslan… Needless to say, Caspian was awed and astonished.

"So the trees _did_ move during your reign?" he asked the girl, at once eager and incredulous.

Lucy's gaze turned hazy as she answered. "Oh yes," she shared. "They use to dance too…"

Caspian did not fail to notice the longing tone with which she spoke… the almost palpable sorrow that flooded the air was clue enough. So, wanting (no, _needing_) to return the girl's good cheer, he squeezed her to him more tightly, offering comfort and understanding to the maiden. And though he couldn't see it, Caspian could feel the atmosphere around her lighten as Lucy smiled.

After several brilliant minutes of tortuous nearness with the prince, the Lion began to slow back to a calm, steady tread. At long last, Aslan halted, informing, "They are asleep in the clearing up ahead, Lucy." The queen and the prince slipped off his back, at once accepting and reluctant.

Lucy turned to the Lion with a nod, dropping another kiss on his mane before looking to Caspian. With a serene smile, she took his hand in her own and led the way to her eldest siblings.

Caspian couldn't help the irresistible tingle that went up his spine when their hands met. They were both young, and neither were done growing… but their hands fit like two inter-locking puzzle pieces: meaningless when separate, but whole when combined. He felt significant somehow, just by being near her – and it wasn't because she was one of the queens of the Golden Age. Her personality just seemed to warm him down to his toes. She made him feel needed and wanted… but Lucy's presence also seemed incapable of swelling his ego. It was a delicate balance that the queen effortlessly managed, often without even thinking about it.

Lucy's grip on his hand tightened slightly; she was nervous. Caspian squeezed back to comfort her then lightly bumped her shoulder with his upper arm as a show of support. Lucy gave him a grin in return. Then, taking a deep breath, she entered the clearing.

Caspian looked on in admiration as Lucy released her hands from his and resolutely approached the sleeping trio. It was a terrifying thing to wake up three people, all older than yourself and all very tired – especially when you had parted ways with them earlier in the day.

The prince looked on as Lucy approached Peter first. Getting to her knees by his side, she shook the high king, whispering, "Peter, get up. Quick. Aslan is here, and we must follow him at once."

Usually, the young man would have mumbled a few words and rolled over back asleep, but startled, he murmured, "Lu? Is that you?"

The young queen smiled, replying, "Yes, Peter, it's me. Now you need to wake up…"

The High King began to sit up, rubbing at his eyes and pushing his disheveled dark blonde hair out of his face. The sleep now wiped from his eyes, he could now clearly see his sister before him in the moonlight. Immediately, an expression of profound relief washed over his face. Pulling his sister into a tight embrace, Peter exclaimed, "I'm so glad you're alright! I was worried for you and Ed… Susan was too, only she tries to hide it behind annoyance – you know how she is."

"Yes, I know Peter," the Valiant Queen replied, pulling out of the familiar shelter of his arms. Standing, the girl pulled her brother to his feet. "We need to make haste, Peter. Aslan says that there is much to be done this night. We must be ready."

Peter's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes lit up. "Aslan is here?"

Lucy nodded. "And Caspian." The High King's glance then shifted to rest upon the male figure behind his youngest sister. He appeared about sixteen years old – four years older than Lucy. He was a tall youth, about the same height as Peter – even with the one year age difference. The prince's dark eyes rested tenderly on Lucy's form before sliding to meet his own. Vaguely, Peter recalled that in the Golden Age, his fair-haired sister had always been attracted to tall men. This unwelcome recollection convinced the High King to treat the prince with a certain wariness in future.

"Peter," Lucy called, garnering his attention. "Would you please wake Susan?" Peter could only respond with a nod – Lucy had already woken him up, so it was only fair. As he dealt with Susan's complaints and claims that he'd been dreaming, Peter spared a few glances back at his sister and the prince.

Clasping Caspian's hand, Lucy asked, "Could you wake the D.L.F.?"

A puzzled expression crossed the prince's face as he queried, "_D.L.F.?_"

Lucy giggled softly, still not releasing his hand. "It's a nickname we've given Trumpkin…" Then, gazing up at the youth with her head cocked beguilingly, "So would you mind waking him? I imagine it would be easier on him if it were you waking him than I…"

The prince nodded his assent. His face dipped towards the girl slightly as if to kiss her head; however, he caught himself before he could fulfill the motion. Instead, the prince gave her hand an affectionate squeeze before moving off to fulfill the girl's request.

Later, with Trumpkin, Susan, Peter all awake and assembled before her and Caspian, Lucy stood tall at the prince's side, her monarchal regality wrapped around her like a mantle. "We are working on a schedule this night. Aslan has said that there is much to be done; thus, at the Lion's behest, King Edmund has remained at the How in readiness for I not what. Prince Caspian and myself were brought here by the Great Lion to lead you three back with us."

Despite the factual formality behind Lucy's words, Susan was still quizzical. "But if Aslan is here, then why cannot he lead us to the How himself?"

Lucy stood straighter, her entire being seemingly transformed. She appeared solemn and stalwart as she gazed out upon her audience. The moonlight tangled in her hair, creating an ethereal glow about her face. And her modish Narnian dress leant her an elegance and majesty that her elder siblings seemed to lack at that moment. She was Queen Lucy the Valiant once again before their eyes – the fair-haired Lioness of Narnia. Aslan's most faithful. The Queen of the Silver Crown. The Fourth Throne of Cair Paravel. Though the youngest of the four Kings and Queens of Old, righteousness guided Lucy's path, just as Aslan shepherded her fate now.

Somehow, Lucy had to communicate this to her eldest siblings, or all may be lost before it had even begun. Wordlessly, Caspian interlaced his hand with hers, conveying his encouragement and passing along his strength. At that moment, Lucy wished with all her heart that she could turn away from the stares of Peter, Susan, and Trumpkin – that she could shy away, climb into Caspian's arms, melt into his tall form, and hide away from her duty.

But no, Lucy knew well enough what must be done. Aslan and all of Narnia was depending upon her at this moment. Tightening her grip on the prince's hand until her knuckles were ghost-white, the young queen exhaled her tension, allowing her squeeze to lessen and depart. Caspian understood; using his thumb, he caressed the back of her hand, rubbing soothing circles along the pale flesh.

At last, Lucy felt she could speak. "I led us into Narnia, if you remember," the queen said grandly. Turning more solemn, she continued, "And I led us out of Narnia, too." A deep breath. "It was Aslan's will in both cases, just as it is His will now that I lead you all to Him and the How."

Peter gazed on his youngest sibling with a proud fondness; she had regained her sense of self. Now, it was time for the rest of them to follow suit. Moving to stand before her, the High King felt that a more formal pledge would be in better taste this time around. Thus, he descended to one knee at Lucy's feet.

Though the widening of her eyes expressed her surprise, Lucy otherwise accepted the gesture gracefully. But still, for Caspian and all the others observing this, it was an unheard-of event to see; the High King knelt to no one except the Great Lion himself. Releasing Caspian's hand, Lucy held out both of her hands to her brother where he knelt before her. Rising, Peter kissed the backs of her hands before pulling her into a soft hug. Then, loosening the embrace, the High King smiled down at Lucy, before giving her forehead a soft peck of his lips. Without a word, Peter motioned for Susan and Trumpkin to pack their things to leave the clearing.

"It's so good to have you back with us, Lucy," Peter whispered before moving to assemble his own meager possessions.

Softly, Lucy glowed from the unspoken praise she had received from her eldest brother. Sometimes, she was unsure if Peter ever totally approved of her. In England, Lucy was hardly useful, however much she tried to be, and often, the girl was wistfully daydreaming of Narnia. Meanwhile, as a Queen of Narnia, Lucy had not been a steady, reliable sort of person. How could she be? Like the glittering waves of the Eastern Sea, Lucy could not help being… untamed.

…Cair Paravel was the epitome of paradise and luxury, and Lucy loved her life there. But sometimes… Lucy needed to be free. Wild. Like the Fauns and Dryads she danced with. Like the tides of the Eastern Sea. Like Aslan, himself. That is why the Valiant Queen attended the full-moon dances in the woods.

And until now, Lucy had never been sure that her eldest brother accepted her for what she is.

Caspian's hand on her shoulder pulled her from her thoughts. "Are you ready to go?" he asked her softly. Turning to the youth with a brilliant smile, Lucy nodded, and accepted his proffered arm.

The entire group walked swiftly after the two, who in turn followed the gleaming form of Aslan through the forest. After a little while of chatting and marching, Caspian and Lucy agreed that the prince should have a chance to speak to Peter and Trumpkin about his army's capabilities, Edmund's suggestions, and Miraz's strength's and weaknesses. In turn, Lucy wanted to speak with Susan.

Leaving Caspian's side, Lucy called, "Susan! Do you mind walking with me for a little? The boys need to converse about the war…"

Susan nodded, accepting the change of position, even though she had been grumbling not too long ago. Gracefully trotting to catch up to Lucy, she passed the prince where he waited for Peter and Trumpkin to meet him. Previously unable to give the youth much attention, Susan now took the time to rake her eyes over his form.

He was a good-looking youth, the Gentle Queen determined. And the potential to be an attractive and handsome man was already present. A few more years, Susan thought, and he would be a dashing king to behold.

Caspian, in turn, took that brief moment to examine the fifteen-year-old queen as she moved past him. It still amazed him that the central figures of his bedtime stories were walking about with him and talking to him, and Caspian couldn't help being curious as to the appearance of the infamously beautiful Queen Susan.

What Caspian found took him by surprise, even as it _didn't_.

Her skin was pale and smooth, appearing as white and polished as a marble statue. _But it lacked the lively, rosy glow of Lucy's complexion_. Susan's hair was dark and luscious, shining in the moonlight like a black waterfall over her shoulders. _But Caspian missed the fiery glow of Lucy's wild waves of blonde – silver in moonlight and golden in sunlight, so very reminiscent of Aslan's tawny mane._ The Gentle Queen was a young woman, already well-developed and curvy. _Yet her alluring form did not possess the nimble energy of Lucy's lithe figure._ The fifteen-year-old's face held fine, dark brows that spoke of composure and poise. A classic nose graced her, lending the young woman an upright and virtuous appeal. The queen's large doe-like eyes sparkled as if they were two dark, limpid pools of water. But, even more enticing were the full, shapely lips that begged to be conquered._ Caspian couldn't help comparing Susan's natural reserve to the Valiant Queen's vivacity and openness of expression. The prince pondered over the younger girl's expressive brows, her deep, glowing blue eyes, Puckish nose, stubborn chin, and smiling, mischievous lips… lips that flirted and invited, however much the innocence of her figure belied her captivating countenance._

Undoubtedly, Queen Susan was gorgeous. Her beauty was one of a classic nature, one that all people could recognize and admire. Yet, while her stunning looks were easily worshiped from afar, Caspian felt that her appearance was not the sort of beauty that a man could live with comfortably or love completely. She was a finely crafted statue; her skin would not flush from desire in a man's arms, her eyes would not glow with the brilliant luster of adoration, her lips would not speak the three words any besotted man would wish to hear from the object of his affections. _True_ love required an exchange of trust and affection… two people sharing their feelings unreservedly. Susan was a cool beauty, and Caspian found that he much preferred the warm vibrancy of her younger sister.

It was a dawning moment for the prince, and his expression turned thoughtful and introspective as the second passed.

Peter, of course, watched the interaction with interest. Both he and Edmund had always been more protective of Lucy than Susan. In the Golden Age, the two brothers had formulated their own unspoken tests for Lucy's prospective suitors. The two trials the prince had apparently passed with flying colors. The first of which was to look beyond Lucy's light-hearted and childish exterior – more important now than ever with their younger physical forms. The second trial was obtaining Aslan's good opinion (often one that had to be foregone in the past, since He is not a _tame_ lion) – which the prince _has_ passed. For how could Caspian be detestable if Aslan was trying to put him on Narnia's throne? The third – and often most important test – was underway. Would the prince be swayed by Susan's beauty? Would he forsake Lucy in favor of her older sister?

Peter wasn't sure. It was clear that Caspian had gotten a good, long look at Susan and that a realization had sprouted from that sight. What that sudden comprehension was, time alone would tell.

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	9. Chap 2 Part 6: Two Heads Are Better

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Chapter 2, Part 6: Two Heads are Better than One

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Strolling quickly side by side, Lucy and Susan were silent. Susan still could not make out the sight of Aslan, though he walked but a dozen paces before them… And Lucy found herself tongue tied with emotions long-forgotten and unfamiliar.

The Queen of the Silver Crown had seen her sister and Caspian looking each other over… And already, Lucy was resigning herself to the fact that the prince would become another of Susan's love-bitten swains. It wasn't fair for Susan to be loved and admired so very much while she is left alone… It gnawed away at the younger girl's thoughts; after all, why would any man _love_ her when he could love her sister instead?

Lucy shook her head at her foolishness. She could not allow such thoughts to plague her. Aslan chose her to follow him… Lucy could not allow disparaging thoughts to weigh her mind in the midst of fulfilling her treasured duty to the Lion. Firming her resolution thus, the silver queen pushed thoughts of Caspian and Susan to the furthest corners of her mind. Releasing them with a sigh, she approached her sister, saying, "Susan… you and I were once so _close_…"

A nostalgic haze appeared in the elder girl's eyes as she nodded her agreement. Still, Susan said nothing. Lucy decided a change of tactics was in order…

"Remember our travels to Tashbaan?" Lucy persisted, smiles lighting up her face. "How we would float along the river in the shaded pleasure-boats? The clothes we would have made there? The silks, gauzes, and all the other light, luscious textiles? The famous milk baths? The exotic fruits? The warm climate?"

Susan was now glowing with beatific recollections. "Oh yes," she replied, a soft smile of joy bringing her fine features new life. "All the balls and parties…"

"…of which you were the belle!" the silver queen laughed gaily, not begrudging her sister the honest praise.

Susan flushed prettily from the selfless admiration. Accustomed as she was to being complimented ardently by her suitors and teasingly by her brothers… such sincere tribute from a fellow female was compliment indeed. Although, Susan chided herself, in Lucy's case, it was not an uncommon thing to hear. The girl was kind and painfully sincere, finding the good in everyone she met. The gold queen heartily admired these qualities in her sister, trying at every opportunity to emulate Lucy's example. And even though known as 'the Gentle,' Susan was never sure that she actually succeeded.

"You know that you are beautiful, don't you Lucy?" Susan wondered, clasping her sister's hand in her own as they continued to walk.

Lucy's reply was a noncommittal noise… neither a 'yes' or a 'no.'

This was a point that Susan was often concerned about. As much as her beauty was a treat, it was also a trial, though the negative aspect she felt most keenly was where it affected her sister. The gold queen enjoyed the attention, the flattery, the suitors – yes. How could she help it? She is only human… But poor Lucy! Susan feared that her own popularity undermined her little sister's self-estimation of her own worth. This worry trumped all other ordeals Susan suffered due to her physical appearance; she could handle crazed suitors (like that love-crazed, two-faced Rabadash) and she could handle being set apart by others (worshiped and admired instead of loved and cared for)… but having it affect Lucy – that cut her to the quick: most especially because there was no way that Susan could see to combat it.

Lucy had always been different from her. As little girls, Susan had been fond of playing with her dolls – an activity she was glad to have her sister participate in. But Lucy… she was often too busy trailing after Peter, playing sports or roughhousing with Edmund, or daydreaming by herself to join in. Sometimes, the little girl would politely change the dolly's dress or sit and let Susan style her hair… but Susan could see that Lucy's heart wasn't in it.

It may seem a little thing, and Susan had to admit, it was, but somehow the dolls were a metaphor for the sisters' entire relationship. As much as they loved one another – they had nothing in common. And as such, the older girl had no notion of how to soothe away the complex wrinkles of her sister's thoughts. Susan – as well as she did in school – always drew a blank when it came to Lucy.

And now that the girl was finally at an age in which she is beginning to notice boys… things were bound to become more difficult. (The Golden Age never really counted – even then, Lucy had never quite seemed to age emotionally…)

Now, as potential rivals in love… Susan could see her relationship with Lucy sailing into disaster. But she _wouldn't_ let it. She couldn't. As much as she was pleased by the wide-range of admirers her beauty and status invoked… Susan's greatest concerns and affections had always been for her family. She had never forgotten that. Not in Narnia when she had agonized over whether her siblings would survive their battles – Peter against the giants of Ettinsmoor and Lucy and Edmund against Rabadash (a situation she had indirectly caused)… Nor had she forgotten in England, where she tried to re-assimilate them into the world they were born in – even going so far as to shake off many all-too-lingering thoughts of Narnia in order to make things more bearable for them all in the long-run.

In England, all her efforts had been in vain. Because she shrugged off Narnian memories, her siblings looked at her askance, troubled and disappointed by her behavior. But Susan meant no slight – not to them, or Narnia, or her friends of old, and especially not to Aslan, himself. She was just trying to be practical… and now look where it got her. Susan had not paid heed to Lucy's sighting of Aslan. And now, they might be late for whatever fate Aslan held in store for them tonight.

Susan could have groaned aloud at her mistake. They were clearly following _something_ through the woods. And Lucy _had_ always been strangely connected to Aslan where the others had not. Looking ahead, Susan caught a brief glimpse of a moonlit-gold figure passing through the trees.

Squeezing her sister's hand in excitement and realization and shame, Susan glanced at Lucy, flushed with joy and indignity. "About Aslan… I—I believe you," she whispered, loud enough only for her little sister (and perhaps a Lion) to hear her. Lucy gleamed and glowed from within at the admission.

Susan sighed a little in contentment. Somehow, she could almost feel the straining threads of their relationship loosen and begin to re-stitch themselves into a tighter weave. It was a blessed relief to the Gentle Queen.

Meanwhile, Caspian was in the midst of relating Edmund's plan of action to defeat Miraz. "Edmund told me of the many times the two of you participated in tournaments abroad," the prince told Peter, while the Red Dwarf and King listened. "He believed that the easiest way to triumphing over the Telmarines would be to engage Miraz in single combat on behalf of both armies…"

Peter's face lit up with a brilliant grin. "That's Edmund for you;" he laughed, "mind of a scholar, heart of a poet!"

"Eh?" Trumpkin asked. "How's that?" Caspian, too, appeared confused.

"Caspian the Ninth was killed by Miraz, correct?" Peter reaffirmed. The two nodded, for while it was never proven, the possibility that Caspian's uncle did so was fiercely overwhelming in their minds. "Well then," Peter smiled, "since his singular action caused the most recent episode of tyranny for the Narnians… don't you think it would be poetic justice if he were to be personally defeated by the Narnian King?"

Caspian looked up, bewildered. "Why could it not be me? I want to avenge my father…"

The High King shook his head. "But wouldn't he just laugh at a challenge from you? I mean, we know that you are a king and a warrior, but he thinks of you as a kid," he placated.

"But sire…" the D.L.F wondered. "Would he even accept a challenge from you? He knows he has the stronger army."

"Very likely he won't," King Peter agreed cheerfully. "But there's always the chance. And even if he doesn't, we shall spend the best part of the day sending heralds to and fro and all that. By then, Aslan may have done something. And at least Edmund and I can inspect the army and strengthen the position. I will send the challenge once we arrive at the How. I hope you have a pen and ink there…"

Caspian shrugged, "I'm sure the Doctor has some on his person…"

"Good," the High King nodded.

The next few meters were trod over in silence; there being little for them to say. Peter, simultaneously, was gazing at his sisters who appeared to be making stilted conversation for a while. However, after Susan took Lucy's hand and made some sort of awkward admission, the tete-a-tete became easy and rushed – as though they had so much to say to one another that couldn't possibly wait.

Caspian, too, seemed to notice the turn in the conversation. Idly, the prince remarked, "They seem very close."

Peter grinned crookedly. "As close as they _could_ be, I suppose." Caspian turned to him with a questioning look in his eyes. Trying to clarify it for the youth (and simultaneously sound out his feelings towards his sisters), Peter explained, "They're both so different, you see."

Caspian nodded. "They _seem_ dissimilar," he agreed.

The High King scrutinized the younger man askance. Quietly, he observed, "I could see that you noticed so… Yet, I am interested to hear _what _precisely you think of my sisters."

Caspian could tell that this was a loaded question. He must be complimentary to both. He must be honest, however, as well. And favoring one over the other would not likely be well received… "They both more than live up to the stories I had heard as a child," he found himself tactfully responding.

"A most diplomatic reply!" the King exclaimed, laughing. Suddenly, Peter felt as though he was returned to the Golden Age with the ambassadors' vague and politic words. Growing taller in his companions' eyes, the man continued, "But your answer reveals little of your thoughts. Tell me truly, Caspian, what do you think of my sisters?"

Trumpkin looked on the two with undisguised interest. He was eager to hear Caspian's response, for a king must have queen… And if the queen happened to be a queen in her own right… so much the better! Besides, the D.L.F. was fond of both girls already, even with the limited length of their acquaintance.

Caspian took a moment to think before answering the High King. "Queen Susan the Gentle," the prince began, "is a beautiful young woman. I can see why so many men fought for her favor in the Golden Age. She seems virtuous and worthy and well-bred…"

Peter nodded along with the description of the gold queen, internally judging Caspian's words. All correct. All polite. All _vague_.

"Lucy, on the other hand," Caspian compared, with an affectionate grin, "is warm and wild and brilliant… She is unlike any girl that I've ever met, and I do not that I would be able to whether the situation I am currently in without her support."

The prince's tone was warm, and Peter could hear the difference in his voice as he spoke of the younger girl. Peter almost grinned in relief at the obvious partiality Caspian seemed to have towards Lucy. It was splendid that someone Lucy held in high regard at long last was fond of her rather than her sister.

Wryly, Peter decided that the only difficulty would be in convincing _Lucy_ he preferred her to Susan. Well, that and the question of whether or not Aslan would be sending them back to England soon…

Still, while Lucy could be sharp-eyed enough with others' relationships, she could be a bit dense about how people felt about her…

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Sorry that I missed a week… homework has been a time-consuming killjoy. Still, I hope this is sufficient for now.

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	10. Chap 2 Part 7: Two Can Play That Game

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Chapter 2, Part 7: Two Can Play That Game

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Following Aslan, the five them arrived at the bottom of the How. Trumpkin still had not seen the Lion, though all the others could. Trumpkin, muttering something about the sentries, was quickly shushed by the four monarchs in his company as the Lord of the Wood turned to face them. The golden creature looked so majestic that they all felt as glad as anyone can who feels afraid and as afraid as anyone can who feels glad.

Peter strode forwards. "Oh, Aslan," said he, dropping on one knee and raising the Lion's heavy paw to his face. "I'm so glad. And I'm so sorry. I've been leading them wrong ever since we started and especially yesterday morning."

"My dear son," the Lion said, his tone forgiving. Then, turning to Caspian and Lucy, he commended, "Well done."

Lucy beamed, catching the prince's hand in her own, and Caspian blushed at the praise and the girl's touch, hanging his head to hide it.

Then, after an awful, pregnant pause, his deep voice called, "Susan." The Lion's voice drew her to him like a magnet, even though she wept in shame and felt some fear in his presence. "You have listened to fears, child," the Lord of the Wood said. "Come, let me breathe on you. Forget them." Then, exhaling upon the girl, he asked, "Are you brave again?"

Sniffling slightly, Susan looked up at the Lion's face, and even weeping, the queen appeared tragic and pale and utterly beautiful. "A little, Aslan," she said.

"And now!" the Lion said in a much louder voice (with just a hint of a roar in it), while his tail lashed his flanks playfully. "And now, where is this little Dwarf, this famous swordsman and archer, who doesn't believe in lions? Come here, son of Earth, come HERE!" The last word was nearly a roar in and of itself.

His words a ghost of themselves, Trumpkin gasped, "Wraiths and wreckage!"

The King and Queens of Old, who knew Aslan well enough as any one could, saw that Aslan liked the Dwarf a great deal… Thus, they were not disturbed by the Lion's rumbling bellow. Meanwhile, Caspian was restrained from movement by the soft warmth of Lucy's hand, telling him that all would be well. The D.L.F., however, was in a different boat. Frightened out of his wits, he tottered towards Aslan on shaky feet.

As the Dwarf approached, Aslan pounced upon him, holding him balled up in his mouth like a kitten in a mother cat's mouth. The Lion gave him a single shake that sent his armor rattling like a tinker's pack, then Aslan tossed the Dwarf up into the air, and as he came down, the huge velvety paws caught him gently and set him back on his feet.

"Son of Earth, shall we be friends?" the gold Lion asked, a hint of amusement evident in his deep voice.

Still out of breath, the Red Dwarf panted, "Ye—he—he—hes."

Aslan's mouth appeared curved up slightly in a humorous smile, but then, his face turned more serious. "Now," he said. "The Moon is setting. Look behind you: there is the dawn beginning. We have no time to lose." The Lion turned to Peter, Caspian, and the D.L.F. "You three, you sons of Adam and son of Earth, hasten into the Mound and deal with what you will find there."

The Red Dwarf – still speechless – hastened to do the Great Cat's bidding, and neither of the boys quite dared to ask Aslan if he would follow after them. All three saluting him with their swords, they turned and jingled away into the dusk.

Ever observant, Lucy noticed that was no sign of weariness on their faces… Peter appeared more man than boy – more like the High King Peter that he once had been. Caspian, too, did not seem so very young now either – his face was no longer that of a prince's but of a king's. The youngest queen smiled to herself, wondering if that was how she and Edmund had looked to the Narnians earlier in the day…

As the young men and the Dwarf disappeared from sight, the two queens again turned to Aslan. Morning light was slowly beginning to leak onto the great upper firmament, turning the sky a nondescript, gray, in-between sort of color. And low down in the east, Aravir, the morning star of Narnia, gleamed bright and close – almost like a little moon. Aslan, seeming to stretch and grow with the increasing eastern light, lifted his head, shook his mane, and roared.

Lucy and Susan, rushing to cover their ears from the blasting noise, could still hear the sound… it was deep and throbbing, at first like an organ beginning on a low note, then it rose and became more booming with each passing second until the air seemed to shake from it.

Laughing with glee, the Valiant Queen could imagine the men in Miraz's camp waking to the noise and, pale with fear, reaching for their weapons. Glancing sharply at the Lion, Lucy somehow could feel the effect that Aslan's roar was having upon their beloved kingdom… The nymphs and the river god rose from the water, the heads and slim shoulders of the naiads peaking out from the cold fluid while the great, weedy-bearded god of the river glanced about, wondering if Aslan had returned. Beyond, in every field and wood, rabbits rose from their holes, birds un-tucked their heads from under wings, owls hooted in reply, vixens barked, hedgehogs grunted, and the trees stirred as if a monumental wind had swept over the land in a single swoop.

Narnia was beginning to awaken.

In towns and villages, mothers held their children close, dogs whimpered, and men reached for lights, all of the humans gazing into the darkness with wild eyes. And even far away in the northern frontier, the mountain giants peered blearily out of the dark gateways of their castles.

Then, suddenly, the sound of Aslan's roar ceased and Lucy's awareness faded abruptly. Then, Susan was tugging lightly at the younger queen's sleeve, pointing at a dark _something_ approaching them from almost every direction across the hills. First appearing as a sort of black mist creeping along the ground, then like the tossing waves of a black sea in a storm, rising higher and higher as it came nearer…

The woods were on the move.

Coming nearer, they appeared less like trees, and once they had all gathered before Aslan, Lucy realized that it was a crowd of human shapes, all come to greet them. The silver queen's heart felt nearly full to bursting in that moment; descendants of her old friends and dance partners had awoken at last from their slumber! The pale birch girls tossed their heads, and Lucy recalled her wild dances in the woods. The willow women pushed back their hair from their brooding faces, and the queen remembered her lengthy discussions on poetry with a willow. The queenly beeches stood still with adoring faces, and the twelve-year-old reminisced on the ethereal songs a beech once sang. Shaggy oak men brought back her advisor and country-dance partner… The lean and melancholy elms brought to mind the Narnian ballads she would be beg to be told. The shock-headed hollies (dark themselves, but their wives all bright with berries) were reminders of the jolly guests of banquets. Blithe rowans called back memories of her joyful friends…

All of the dryads bowed and rose again, shouting, "Aslan, Aslan!" in their various voices – alternatively husky or creaky or wave-like as the case may be.

The crowd and the dance around Aslan (for it had become a dance once more) grew so thick and rapid that Lucy was confused; she had never experienced a caper quite so swift and so crowded in her life (in Narnia _or_ England!), but her light feet and her jubilee carried her through well enough.

Soon, Lucy espied other people frolicking about among the trees… One was a youth, dressed only in a fawn skin, with vine leaves wreathed in his curly hair. His face was almost too pretty to be a boy's, for it was soft and clear and delicately formed, yet a wildness was evidenced upon it… He appeared as though he might do absolutely _anything_, consequences be damned. His mob of girls – each as wild as he – were with him, as well as an old man on a donkey.

Everybody was laughing: and everybody was shouting out, "Euan, euan, eu-oi-oi-oi!"

The attractive – and _dangerous_, Lucy reminded herself – youth cried out, "Is it a Romp, Aslan?" And somehow or another… it was. Everyone was running about, each person behaving rather like the blindfolded person in Blind Man's Bluff… To Lucy and Susan's eyes, it appeared similar to so many children's games, but everyone was It and no one ever won or even seemed to _want_ to win. And in the midst of all this, the old (and enormously fat) man on the donkey was calling out, "Refreshments! Time for refreshments!" and slipping off his mount and being bundled back on again by the others. Meanwhile, the donkey kept trying to display some sort of circus-like skills, attempting to walk on its hind legs for the romping crowd.

Also, vine leaves crept everywhere, climbing up the trees, tangling in the donkey's tail, even settling into Lucy's hair. Then, plump bunches of grapes grew from the vines – overhead and underfoot and all around.

Thus, to the old man's roars of "Refreshments! Refreshments!" everyone began eating the grapes. Lucy's eyes widened in delight as she bit into the fruit; they were firm and tight on the outside, but burst into cool sweetness when in one's mouth. The two queens had never had enough of such grapes before, yet here, there was more than anyone could possibly want and no table manners at all. Everywhere Lucy looked, she saw sticky and stained fingers, laughing mouths full of the fruit, and yodeling cries of _Euan, euan, eu-oi-oi-oi-oi_.

Suddenly, the entire crowd felt at the same moment that the game (whatever it was) and the feast should be over, so everyone flopped down upon the grass, breathless from exercise and laughter. As one, they turned to Aslan to hear what he had to say…

Before he spoke, the sun rose, peeping over the trees and reaching out to them all with warm, golden rays. Aslan faced the east where he stood, looking more noble and majestic than ever before…

And suddenly, Lucy was struck with a memory. "I say, Su," she whispered softly to her sister, gesturing towards the wild-looking bunch. "I know who they are."

"Who?" Susan asked, her dark curtain of hair falling forward as she leaned in to hear her sister's answer.

Reasoning it out, the silver queen replied, "The boy with the wild face is Bacchus and the old one on the donkey is Silenus. Don't you remember Mr. Tumnus telling us about them long ago?"

For a brief moment, Susan graced her sister with a humorous glance of reproach. "Yes, of course." Then, leaning in further to her sister, she began, "But I say, Lu—"

"What?"

"I wouldn't have felt safe with Bacchus and all his wild girls if we'd met them without Aslan," the older girl confided softly.

Grinning, Lucy replied, "I should think not." Looking up, the younger queen found herself face to face with the Lion himself. His warm, amber eyes stared into her own sea-blue ones, preparing her for the imparting of some knowledge or duty or some such.

"Lucy, dearest," the deep voice of the Lion began, "because of the choices made in this trip to Narnia, you have more work to do, but it will be more rewarding for you in the end, I think…"

Stalwart, the Valiant Queen nodded. "What do you require of me, Aslan?"

Though her voice was staunch and ready, Lucy was itching to follow after her brothers and the prince… She'd been away from them for too long. Caspian had been entrusted to her – placed into her care and she was feeling keenly as though she had somehow deserted him. And Edmund? He had been needed here… but what for? Was he well? Was he wounded? Did he require any of her healing cordial? And what of Peter? They had a moment earlier in the woods in which everything was forgiven between them… But Lucy felt that they still had much to speak of together before all awkwardness would be cleared away completely.

The Lion's rumbling laughter broke her from her musings. "You _know_ what to do, dear one. Do what you feel you must… follow after Caspian, Peter, and Edmund. Be a balm unto their worries, Lucy. Make them and the Narnians whole again…"

Smiling widely, Lucy replied, "I will do everything in my power to do so, Aslan!" The Great Cat smiled again, butting her shoulder lightly in the direction of the How. Sending her sister a beaming wave, the Valiant Queen trotted to the Mound.

Susan, left behind, felt out of place. Bacchus and his wild girls were still in their company… Aslan was gazing at her with grave eyes… And she was all alone.

"We have much to speak of, you and I," the Lion said to her. "But for now, rest. In a few hours, we shall make holiday…"

Relief swept over the girl like a tidal wave. Susan had felt worried that Aslan might reproach her for her previous actions and words in the woods. Though her guilt still gnawed at her, the gold queen was sure that any more rebukes from the Lion would have brought her to tears, however much he said so with love.

The Gentle Queen nodded.

As she laid her head down, Susan supposed that they did have much to speak of… Closing her eyes, the Southern sovereign couldn't escape the intuition that she would not be traveling to Narnia again…

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	11. Chap 3 Part 1: Three's A Crowd

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Chapter 3, Part 1: Two's Company, Three's a Crowd

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Tearing off towards Aslan's How, Lucy clutched some of the fabric of her dress's skirt in her hands so as to give her legs greater freedom of movement. Breathing hard as she reached the entrance to the tunnels, the queen greeted the two sentinel badgers, asking, "How long has it been since Trumpkin, Caspian, and the High King came through here?"

"About half-an-hour to an hour, your Majesty," one of them replied with a bow. Meanwhile, the other badger set about lighting a torch that rested just inside the tunnel's mouth. Handing it to the queen, he bowed. Smiling and thanking them, Lucy crept inside the How.

Still mostly unsure of her way in the maze of burrowing tunnels, Lucy concluded that the one place she _did_ know how to get to would probably be the most likely place for the prince and her brothers to be located: the room of the Stone Table.

Moving through the tunnels, Lucy grazed her fingers lightly over the etchings on the walls. Using them as land-marks, she turned left at the Battle of Beruna and took the central tunnel at Tumnus-near-the-lampost. In this manner, the silver queen beheld the door to the room she was looking for. Politely, she rapped out a musical, tapping, knock against the wood, then swung the door open some.

Her appearance was met with the sight of three slain corpses: Nikabrik the Black Dwarf, a half-transformed Wer-Wolf, and the hideous form of a hag.

Lucy gulped at the sight and the stench. Clearly there had been some treachery here… The queen's ire rose up within her. How _dare_ they betray Narnia thus, and before the Stone Table no less! The queen shook her head to shake the images of the bodies from her mind, but how could she? She could not even stop staring at them! They were a horrid sight, indeed, but it should not be such an unfamiliar vision – she had, after all, fought in wars and battles and skirmishes in the Golden Age… Perhaps it was because in this visit to Narnia, Lucy had been expecting better of the Old Narnians.

Was she so naïve that she had forgotten the existence of Fell creatures? How could she have blindly overlooked in-fighting or treachery or ill-tempers? It was her duty to look after Caspian… had she failed? Could she have warned him that something like this might happen? Had Caspian or her brothers been wounded?

Tears pricked at her eyes. Forcing them not to fall, Lucy shut the door and turned around to face the hall, only to be met with a group of Narnians come to bear the bodies away.

"Your Majesty?" a Faun asked, concerned after her wellbeing.

Acknowledging the Narnians with a nod, she pressed the Faun's hand, silently thanking him for his worry. Pulling herself together, Queen Lucy asked, "Where are my brothers and King Caspian?"

"I can take you to them, my queen," the Faun offered.

Assenting, Lucy strode in his wake through the tunnel. As she did so, the queen examined the Faun before her. He looked familiar to her… something about his dark curly hair and his friendly face reminded her of someone.

"What is your name?" the Valiant Queen asked him, curious.

Turning to her with a grin, the Faun replied, "Tumnus, my lady."

Blue eyes wide, Lucy echoed, "Tumnus?"

Laughing a little, Tumnus said, "Yes. Tumnus, after an ancestor of mine."

Beaming, the twelve-year-old girl slipped her arm through the Faun's. Laughing at the awe-struck expression on his face, Lucy related, "Tumnus was the first person I met in Narnia. He saved me from the White Witch's clutches, and he was always a most faithful friend, loyal subject, and wise advisor. His figure even appears on these walls… My siblings and I owe him much."

Gaping slightly, Tumnus pressed her hand, trying to convey his emotions; he was in awe, grateful, honored, and he hardly knew what else. "I don't know what to say, your Majesty."

"Then say nothing, Tumnus," Lucy teased, laughing lightly. Her expression turning more earnest, she said, "But just know that I would like to know you better during my stay here." Interpreting the nearly panicked look on his face, the queen added, "I don't mean to intimidate or force my company upon you, and I have no intention of using you to replace my friend. I mean to make new friends, but you look quite a bit like the Tumnus I knew, and it is enormously comforting to see a familiar face."

Breaking out into a relieved and friendly grin, Tumnus commented, "I understand – I just didn't want you to get your hopes up thinking that I would be exactly like my ancestor…" Lucy nodded in understanding.

Pulling them to a stop before a wooden door, Tumnus said, "They should be within, Queen Lucy." Thanking him for bringing her, she gave his hands a fond squeeze before turning the knob of the door before her.

This time, the door revealed what she had hoped to encounter: the D.L.F, Trufflehunter, Cornelius, Caspian, and her brothers – all of whom glanced up from their meal of cold bear-meat, a lump of hard cheese, an onion, and a mug of water. They all appeared surprised to see her.

Turning to reassure the Faun that he could leave her, Lucy lightly called, "They're here, Tumnus… Thank you again for showing me the way."

Thus, the Faun left the doorway with a bow, while Edmund and Peter glanced at each other, echoing, "Tumnus?" to each other in confusion. Lucy dismissed their bewilderment, remarking, "Yes, his name is Tumnus – after his _ancestor_."

"_Our_ Tumnus?" Edmund sought to clarify. Lucy nodded to him in reply. The Just King shook his head, grinning in amazement. "Well, isn't that something… looked just like him too."

"Enough of that," Lucy said, cutting off further observations or musings. Turning the topic, she worriedly asked, "Is anyone hurt? …I – I saw the bodies."

Peter glanced up sharply. Quietly, he remarked, "You shouldn't have seen that, Lu."

The Valiant Queen's eyes grew hard and stubborn. "They were hardly the first corpses I've seen, Peter. I'm fine. What I'm wondering is if all of you _are_…"

Edmund stood, resting one hand on his brother's shoulder and slipping his other arm around his sister's waist. Squeezing Peter's shoulder, the Count of the Western March reminded, "Lucy has been on countless campaigns with us, brother. It may be _nice_ to shelter her, but it's hardly practical – and a little too late for that, I think. Besides, we cannot have her _un-see_ the bodies, now can we?"

Caspian could tell that this was a familiar argument for them. In fact, it all seemed so well worn-in that it was startlingly amusing for onlookers. While the prince disliked the idea of Lucy placing herself in harm's way or of witnessing gory acts… he couldn't help admiring her for her experience on the battle field.

Meanwhile, the High King grunted in reluctant agreement. His younger brother grinned a little at his response before turning to Lucy.

Kissing his little sister's temple, Edmund remarked, "We are all fine, Lucy. Not a scratch on us, as you can see. Now, while we finish supping, why don't you tell us how things were for you and Susan? I would offer you something to eat, but it looks as though you've eaten." So saying, he took out a handkerchief, dipped it in his water mug, then dabbed at the sticky raiment of her meal around her mouth and on her fingers.

In this manner, Caspian's notice was drawn to the queen's laughing lips and her soft, slender digits during Edmund's careful operation of cleanliness. Somehow, the prince felt as though he should say something to the girl. A compliment perhaps… for the wise-beyond-her-years twelve-year-old looked striking; her fair hair was tousled, her light eyes sparkled with life and humor, her russet hunting-gown set off the ivory of her skin, and the lamplight seemed to illuminate her from within, making her appear as a living embodiment of flame…

"Well," Lucy began, sitting down between Edmund and Caspian, "to speak plainly, Aslan roared – as you may have heard. In this manner, he woke the trees…"

"The blinkin' trees are what?" Trumpkin interrupted.

Rolling her eyes slightly, she repeated, "They're _awake_. Anyways… after that there was a sort of romp – or was it a dance? It was a bit like a children's game; everyone was running about chasing everyone else… Then Bacchus, his madcap girls, and Silenus came to join in."

"Bacchus?" Doctor Cornelius wondered, intellectual curiosity alight in his eyes.

Lucy smiled. "Yes, Bacchus…" Thinking carefully as to how to describe him, the queen mused, "He was _very_ pretty…" Caspian's jaw tensed. "but frighteningly wild – not the sort of person you want to meet all on your own." The prince was at ease again… only utterly _confused_ as to his reactions; he felt like pounding his forehead against the table. By the Lion's Mane! What was wrong with him!

"…then the next thing I know, we're all lying about on the ground digesting our meal. It was then that Aslan sent me here," Lucy concluded.

"Do you know why?" Peter wondered. "I mean, last time – at the Battle of Beruna – you and Susan were off with Aslan while we fought the Witch's army…"

The Valiant Queen laughed aloud at his phrasing. "It's not like we were larking about! We were a bit busy getting more troops!" Edmund smiled at his sister, glad that she could joke about that day; it was a strenuous time for all of them – Lucy and Susan saw Aslan die, Peter was responsible for an entire army, and Edmund had to face the Witch (and was fatally wounded thereby).

"Besides," Lucy cheekily remarked, "I am needed here. But don't you worry, if Miraz does agree to single combat, I shan't be fighting… I'll get to exercise the fine art of standing about looking pretty."

"That's a laugh!" Edmund exclaimed, chuckling at her joke. "I bet you anything you'll be sifting through the armory before the day is out in search of a sword to stick in Miraz if anything goes awry!"

The silver queen mock-pouted, "Well… _besides_ that."

The group around the table chuckled at the girl's antics. Peter, proud of his sister's fighting ability (despite his disinclination to having her put it to use), began sharing a story about when he was teaching his youngest sister to use a sword… Again, the table erupted into laughter.

Edmund, leaning in with a smile to whisper in his sister's ear, affirmed, "Aslan sent you to lift our spirits, didn't he?"

Lucy gazed up at her brother with a smile and a nod – adding, "Among other things."

The Just King quirked his eyebrow, mouthing, _"Caspian?"_

The Valiant Queen rolled her eyes at the suggestion behind his expression. Edmund was hinting that she liked him… Well, Caspian was placed in her care by Aslan himself! Of course she likes him! How could she _not_ like the youth that she was helping to instate as king of her beloved Narnia? That does not necessarily mean that she _cares_ for him… though she _does_. Why is she even musing over this right now? Argh! Sometimes brothers could be a real bother!

Forcibly pulling herself from the befuddlement of her thoughts, Lucy was met with her table-mates preparing themselves to get down to business.

"Have you pen and ink, Master Doctor?" the High King asked.

"A scholar is never without them, your Majesty," Cornelius answered, promptly pulling out the items to be put to use.

"Very well," Peter smiled, "I will dictate." The High King leant back in his seat with half-closed eyes, recalling the language he had used in Narnia's Golden Age – all while the Doctor spread out the parchment and opened his ink-horn and sharpened his pen. "Right," Peter said at last, certain that the phrases and titles were all back in his thoughts. "And now, if you are ready, Doctor?"

Dipping his pen into the ink, Cornelius waited for Peter to begin. The dictation read:

_Peter, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, High King over all the Kings in Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands and Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, to Miraz, Son of Caspian the Eighth, sometime Lord Protector of Narnia and now styling himself King of Narnia, Greeting._

_For to prevent the effusion of blood, and for the avoiding all other inconveniences likely to grow from the wars now levied in our realm of Narnia, it is our pleasure to adventure our royal person on behalf of our trusty and well-beloved Caspian in clean wager of battle to prove upon your Lordship's body that the said Caspian is lawful King under us in Narnia both by our gift and by the laws of the Telmarines, and your Lordship twice guilty of treachery both in withholding the dominion of Narnia from the said Caspian and in the most abhominable, bloody, and unnatural murder of your kindly lord and brother King Caspian Ninth of that name. Wherefore we most heartily provoke, challenge, and defy your Lordship to the said combat and monomachy, and have sent these letters by the hand of our well beloved and royal brother Edmund, sometime King under us in Narnia, Duke of Lantern Wastee and Count of the Western March, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table, to whom we have given full power of determining with your Lordship all the conditions of the said battle. Given at our lodging in Aslan's How this XII day of the month of Greenroof in the first year of Caspian Tenth of Narnia._

"That ought to do," Peter said, drawing in a deep breath of satisfaction.

"Indeed," Lucy teased, "you nearly turned purple towards the end of it…"

Sparing his sister an amused glance, the High King continued. "And now we must send two others with King Edmund. I think the Giant ought to be one."

"He's—he's not very clever, you know," Caspian warned.

"Of course not," Peter replied, matter-of-fact. "But any giant looks impressive if only he will keep quiet. And it will cheer him up. But who for the other?"

"Upon my word," said Trumpkin with a grin, "if you want someone who can kill with looks, Reepicheep would be the best."

"He would indeed, from all I hear," said Peter with a laugh. "If only he wasn't so small. They wouldn't even see him till he was close!"

"Send Glenstorm, Sire," Trufflehunter suggested. "No one ever laughed at a Centaur."

The High King nodded his assent, and the group around the table stood and separated, all intent on preparing their emissaries to visit Miraz's encampment. Left behind in the small room was Lucy and Caspian.

Gazing after two of his childhood heroes, Caspian turned to the queen, observing, "…That was quick."

The silver queen smiled. "Yes, that's Peter for you. He's excellent in these sorts of situations; a problem that he can see a way out of is no difficulty – he ploughs straight through it, just as you saw. Edmund, on the other hand, is better served in a political tangle. He's the sort that can pick apart all the layers and intricacies of a web of difficulties – sometimes he even _enjoys_ it. I can't imagine why…"

Raking his fingers through his hair, Caspian confessed, "I'm not sure how _either _of your brothers manage… To be honest, I feel pretty useless most of the time."

Lucy leaned against the youth, resting her head against his shoulder. "Everyone does…"

"You?" the prince asked, puzzled.

With a wry chuckle, the queen replied, "Especially me. Not only am I a girl, I'm also a queen, _and_ the youngest in my family. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get people to take me seriously and let me be useful – especially with two protective older brothers who just happen to be kings…?"

Caspian conceded her point. As a girl, as a queen, as the littlest, she must have been thwarted on all sides when it came to proving herself… So many people have reasons to protect her, and not all of them stemmed from her gender, status, or age. There was just some sort of aura about the girl… Lucy held so much love and warmth and courage that it seemed to bleed out into those around her – imbuing them with her strength and kindness… Who would willingly lose her?

"But you," Lucy continued, unaware of the prince's contemplation, "have an advantage over us, you know… You were born a prince – destined to be a king. On our world, my family is middle class at best and dull and normal at least – or we were until Narnia."

Caspian smiled ruefully at her. "That's the trouble, though, isn't it? I was born a _Telmarine _prince – destined to be a _Telmarine_ king. I'm trying to learn what it is to be Narnian, but I have no idea what's expected of me – let alone how to overcome all of the things I was taught as a boy…"

Realization flashed through the girl's eyes. It made so much sense now; Caspian had so much to live up to and no means of achieving such a feat… He was lost in a sea of expectations without anyone providing him with comfort, assurances, or even advice…

Smiling softly at the youth, Lucy wrapped her arms around Caspian's waist, embracing him as she explained, "That's what _I'm_ here for."

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Wowza! Two in one week! Don't you guys feel special? – I know I do.

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	12. Chap 3 Part 2: Lucky 3

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Chapter 3, Part 2: Lucky 3

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"Consider me your Narnian tutor," Lucy grinned, sitting up straight beside Caspian and releasing him from the comfort of her arms. "I can tell you just about anything you need to know: the rights and responsibilities of certain animals (there is always a bear as a marshal of the lists…), the polite way to dismiss foreign ambassadors (even when you feel the urge to box their ears), the niceties one must observe towards one's subjects (one never rides a talking horse unless it is during a war), and all sorts of laws and such… though perhaps Edmund would be better served in that respect – I'm nearly certain he memorized most of them verbatim."

Caspian felt a rush of emotions… gratitude, apprehension, amusement – but most of all, he was overwhelmed. Lucy, noticing the widening of his eyes as he realized just _how_ much he had to learn, took his hand and laced her fingers through his. "Don't worry," the young queen breathed. "You will be a splendid king no matter what. Besides, it is probably foolish of me to try and reinstate so much of my and my siblings' reign in this time… Narnia has been through so much since then, and its inhabitants have adapted accordingly; they need a king that is well versed in the here and now." Pausing, Lucy emphasized, "They need _you_, Caspian."

Flushing at the praise, the prince bowed his head a little, hoping that it would not be quite so obvious to the girl beside him. Lucy, however, was ever one with a sharp eye and inwardly, she was tickled that her words carried such weight with Caspian. Forgoing a teasing comment on his blush (for a blush it most certainly was), the queen gave his hand a small squeeze that brought the prince out of his embarrassment.

With a start, Caspian recalled her earlier words… the ones just before her saying that Narnia needed him. Clasping her hand tighter, the prince burst, "But Narnia _should_ be returned to its former state – at least as much as is possible and practical." Grappling with his words for a moment in his mind, he explained, "Your reign was called the Golden Age for a good reason – they would not have called it so on a whim. I want to emulate your example and return Narnia to its former glory. Therefore, Lucy, any intelligence you can give me of that era would be most welcome."

This time, it was Lucy who blushed heartily. Giving the youth a half-hearted swat, she glanced up at him through her eyelashes, asking, "What would you like to know first?"

Dumbfounded for a brief moment, the prince concluded, "Chivalry, I suppose – or anything else applicable to the current circumstances." So saying, Caspian rose to his feet, bowing over her hand. Then, the youth's motion concluded, Lucy rose to her feet, slipping her arm through his. Prince Caspian then held the door for her as they exited the room.

Quirking her brow at him askance, the queen wryly remarked, "You seem to be doing well enough so far… Why don't I just correct you if you misstep?"

Caspian grinned at her in reply. "Very well," he answered gaily, leading her through the maze of tunnels until they reached the mouth of the burrow. Stepping into the morning sunshine, the two royals paused, allowing their eyes to adjust to the light and simultaneously search for Lucy's brothers.

Lucy, observing them all to be well occupied, turned to face the prince, suggesting, "Why don't we look through the armory? I'll feel more confident during the duel if I am well-armed myself…"

Caspian chuckled lightly and nodded, then he proceeded to lead her to the stockpile of weapons that was just recently gathered outside for the warriors' convenience. The prince agreed with the girl in this respect; facing an enemy – and their army – even while under temporary truce for a duel was hardly confidence inspiring. Miraz's army was better trained. They also had more soldiers… Yet, at least it could not be said that they were better armed; Dwarf-made weapons were masterpieces – as beautiful to look at as they were convenient and light to carry and deadly to the enemy. In comparison, the Telmarine's weapons looked like children's playthings – all dull and flat and large, requiring hefty, hacking motions for effect, whereas the Narnian weapons were to be wielded with finesse. Like a horse sensitive to the bit, the lightest touch of a swordsman could exercise the blade – either controlling it or brandishing it to achieve victory.

Other weapons were similarly well-made. The bows were crafted to launch arrows accurately over distances and the arrows were constructed with the finest feathers and the highest attention to detail… The throwing-knives were light and thin – built for precise throws at key weak points on the enemy. Axes were sharp enough to cut a single strand of hair… Spear shafts were well balanced for both vaulting and jabbing… Shields were light and mobile but hard and sturdy… All the weapons were crafted with beauty and efficiency in mind.

This armory inventory was heaven to Caspian's Telmarine eyes. He gazed at them in wonder, running his finger along them at times – feeling the design etchings, the soft leather, the sharp edges, the smooth flats of the blades. The prince even chuckled a little as he gazed at the small rapiers forged specifically for Reepicheep and his mice, admiring the skill and the attention to detail present upon the weapons strikingly similar to overlarge needles.

Lucy, having just finished strapping a light sword in its scabbard and belt around her waist, gazed at the young king as she tucked a bow and full quiver over her shoulder. "How long have you loved Old Narnia?" the silver queen softly wondered, moving to stand closer to him.

Raising a tender smile from the weaponry to face the young queen, Caspian replied, "For as long as I can remember…" He paused a moment, recalling his lonely childhood, before continuing on. "My nurse was the only one who seemed to genuinely care for me. And every day, she would tell me stories… Marvelous stories of a long ago age in which four monarchs ruled the land, conquered the sea, and kept the peace. It was a time where strange mythical creatures like fauns and giants and centaurs and dwarves lived… and animals talked.

"I remember sometimes talking to one of the castle's cats in hopes that it would reply," Caspian remarked with a wry smile. "But then my uncle found out about the stories. My nurse was dismissed, and the stories stopped. But then Doctor Cornelius became my tutor…"

Lucy gave the young man a gentle smile of support and understanding, encouraging him to continue.

"One night," the King remarked, "Cornelius woke me up for an astronomy lesson, only, when we arrived atop the tower, he revealed the truth. He was half-dwarf. My nurse's tales were true. And my uncle could never know about any conversations on the topic of the Golden Age of Narnia. That was the night in which my life truly began.

"Before, when you and your siblings were just heroes of myth, I could dismiss the way things were. I had no idea that the idyllic nature of your reign could possibly be achieved. But, knowing that all of you were _real_… it changed everything. I had purpose, suddenly – a goal. For the first time in my life, I wanted to become king so that I could improve the kingdom and live up to the Golden Age of Narnia. Even if there were no dwarves or fauns or talking animals left… I wanted to change what I could. I wanted to be worthy of this land, Aslan, and… _you_."

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A/N:

My sincerest apologies for being a lazy updater! It's my own personal FAIL.


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